Macross Frontier: United We Stand
by FrothyMug
Summary: Several months after colonization, the Macross Quarter must redeploy into space to help secure the system. New crew members mean all-new relationships with the existing crew. A shadowy menace hides somewhere in the stars, seeking to destroy the colony.
1. The Day Before Tomorrow

A/N:

To all of you new readers:

First, I'd like to warmly welcome you to the beginning of my very first fanfic _ever_. After watching the Macross Frontier series, I began to wonder what happened to the characters after it was over. It seemed that the ending was rushed and many questions were left answered, so I decided to expand the story with my own vision. The series' ending was not so peachy-keen as I'd liked it to be. So, I turned to an unlikely source to help me out with my little dilemma: fanfiction! I had some ideas bouncing around in my head and I eventually managed to lump them all together in a seemingly-cohesive thought process, which soon congealed into this fanfic.

First up, I have tacked on something of a prologue to the original beginning of my fanfic. As I've progressed through my fanfic over the last 18 months, I've improved my writing skills by leaps and bounds. I occasionally go back to my older work and keep finding phrases and mistakes that I'd made and think to myself "Good God, I could have written this _way_ better." But, then I realize that it's all part of the development process... So, just for those of you who might get turned away by seemingly sub-standard writing in a fanfic, just give it time. As you get farther along in the story, you'll notice a gradual marked improvement in the quality of my writing. Some day... I don't know when... I'll get around to coming back and re-writing the early chapters to put them more into line with the later work. However, I'm mostly focused on just finishing the story for now. It's been a year and a half since I started and I'm only about two-thirds through the story, as of the time that I'm posting this prologue. Essentially, part of the reason I wrote this prologue was to provide a better "hook" for new readers, since my original beginning kind of starts out slow. The other part of the reason was so that I could actually put a snippet of what to expect down the road in the story. Instead of starting out with what I now consider to be "sub-standard" writing, at least you will get a preview of the kind of quality writing you'll see later on. When you get done with the first half of this chapter, you'll notice another break in the text, followed by some of my old notes. I _did_ go back and rewrite the first chapter, but even now, I consider my revision to be kind of half-assed. Just sayin'... :D After that break lies the _original_ beginning of the story.

I do my best to stay as faithful to canon as possible. However, I did take a couple of creative liberties in various places of the story. There's a slew of new characters that show up from time to time, and some of them are connected to the original cast in ways that are not specified in canon material. Other than that, there is an occasional spot where I overlooked or misinterpreted official material and made a slight mistake in its inclusion into my story. Generally, only the rabid fans will catch those small errors, so I'm just putting that out there for those of you that do see them. There's nothing game-breaking that made it into the story, so fret not. Just accept my story as an AU... because, no matter how faithfully and accurately I followed canon, it would still be considered an alternate universe, right? This story is mostly geared towards the fans of the series, and there are many, MANY references to it and the other Macross series that have come before it. If you haven't seen Frontier, I highly recommend watching it. If you have ONLY seen Frontier, I also recommend that you partake of the other series. Like I said, there are a lot of inside jokes and situations that are homages to the old series. Having seen all of the other series would just help you enjoy this story a little more.

As far as the current readers go, enjoy this little bonus posting and don't forget to leave any impressions in any reviews you happen to put up. Enjoy! -(07/10/11)

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The Macross Frontier armada, a menacing horde of what remains of the desperate colony's military forces, confidently approaches its objective. Though the NUNS fleet has suffered immeasurable losses during its journey through Vajra-infested space, the sheer size of its forces seems daunting even to the most formidable of adversaries. However, its strength does not come from its numbers; it comes from the sheer willpower and determination of its peoples. Soldiers and civilians, Humans and Zentrans, all tied to the same fate: succeed, or face complete annihilation.

The Frontier colonial fleet is dying. Its fragile eco-system has been rendered unsustainable, due to the damage caused by unceasing attacks from Vajra swarms. Its people, war-weary and psychologically exhausted, have no choice but to fight or die. The strengths of their spirits will not allow them to quietly burn out. They know what must be done.

In front of them lies their Holy Land, the answer to their prayers. For almost twenty years, the Frontier emigration fleet has journeyed the stars, hoping to one day find a planet they can call "home". Now, all that stands between them and the completion of their ultimate mission is a massive Vajra swarm, determined to defend their planet from the invaders. This swarm is the very reason that the colonists have been forced into their desperate situation. Feeling a sense of righteousness, the entire colony will get their vindication by wresting the beautiful planet from the bugs' control and finally bring their journey to a glorious end.

Among the countless capital ships constituting the front lines of the armada, a Guantanamo-class carrier prepares for the final assault. Its ubiquitous, diamond-shaped hull is illuminated by various sources of energy: portholes and running lights scattered all over the surface of the ship. Its name, "Normandy II", is engraved on the hull towards the rear end of the ship. Being on the front lines of the impending assault, there are few other appropriate names for the vessel.

As the first variable fighters began to emerge from its neighboring ships, the Normandy II opened its fighter bay doors to begin deploying its complement of Valkyries. The newly-minted VF-171EX Nightmare Plus fighters seemed to shine on their own, despite not having any form of illumination on their frames. Only the cockpits and running lights emitted their cold, technological energies. The trip through the ship's hull via the launch track dragged on for what seemed like an eternity to the anxious pilots. Eventually, the VFs cleared the Normandy II's outer hull, bathing the pilots in the light being reflected by the beautiful planet, which was only about a million miles away at that point. The insignia emblazoned on the hulls of the fighters revealed their identity: "Mako Squadron."

"There she is, gentlemen..." the radio crackled, "Have you ever seen something so beautiful?" The squadron's commander took a brief moment before launch to instill some words of encouragement into his pilots. "That is our new home. We need only to exterminate the Vajra vermin now standing in our way."

Somehow, the sudden mentioning of the massive Vajra swarm now staring them down from the planet's vicinity reminded the pilots of the real danger that laid before them. They'd all seen their fair share of combat with the bugs... and have lost their fair share of compatriots to the horrors of war. However, they could all feel within themselves, the undeniable desire to continue living on. They know that if they fail in their mission, the colony will die. Millions of innocent civilians will cease to exist on this dimensional plane. They can't fail; they won't fail. Each pilot gritted their teeth and tightened their grips on their flightsticks and throttle controls.

"This is it! This is our greatest moment. This... here... we fight for our loved ones, our neighbors, our fellow colonists, our right to exist! If I die here, I die so that they can live on! So shall you, should you sacrifice yourselves to protect that which matters to you most! I promise you, that if all of us in this armada fight with the same convictions, the same determination, that those lives lost in this battle will _not_ be lost in vain." The squadron commander was certainly in the right state of mind. He had to make sure that his pilots all felt the same way. Several pilots could be heard on the comm line responding with grunts and whoops of approval.

"This time, we take the fight to those damn bugs. This time, we'll make them feel what it's like to have their homes attacked and systematically destroyed. This time, we will also have an added advantage: the songs of Sheryl Nome will lead us to victory, while at the same time disrupting the Vajra, the same way the songs of Ranka the Betrayer could do." He paused for another moment to shift gears, "Looking at this vast swarm of Vajra, I'm not thinking about whether or not I'm going to die. I'm thinking about the feeling of the sand between my toes and the cool ocean water flowing around my feet on one of the beaches of that planet... I'll see you all there after we finish this operation."

With that, the squadron commander cut his comm line, indicating that he was ready to launch. The launch signal lights projected themselves upon the Normandy II's hull, giving the pilots an initial launch vector and pausing for approval from the inspection officer perched under the glass dome next to the runway.

One of the pilots glanced towards his multi-function display to get a final look at the photo lodged behind the corner of the screen. For decades, pilots have used this space to adhere their treasured belongings for posterity purposes. Somehow, they needed to be constantly reminded of that which they considered most important to them. He pursed his lips and kissed the air behind his helmet's visor, placing two of his fingers on the transparent barrier protecting his face from the vacuum of space. He then placed his fingers on the object of his affection: a lovely woman pictured standing next to him in the photo.

"I've always depended on you as my guide, Marie. Now that you're gone, I don't have anyone in particular to fight for. I'm doing it because... well, because I've always felt like a protector of sorts. If I am supposed to give my life for these people, so be it. Now, you're _my_ protector, _my_ guardian angel. If I die, that just means that I will be able to rejoin you in the next life. If I survive, it means that you want me to continue my life in this existence. You've always been able to make the right decisions for us both. I want you to know that I trust your judgment, even now from beyond this mortal realm. Lead me to whatever end is best for us both..."

Almost immediately, the voice of Sheryl Nome began to flow from the speakers in his helmet. NUNS command decided to dedicate one communication line solely for the purpose of rebroadcasting the Galactic Fairy's songs of love and jubilation.

The pilots all received their launch approvals, blasting away from their positions in a staggered order and immediately falling into formation with each other. It would take a few launch cycles to get the entire squadron out, but the precision and efficiency of the Normandy II's crew would keep that deployment time to an absolute minimum.

Only a couple of minutes after their initial launch, Mako Squadron took formation in front of the capital ships amongst the thousands of other variable fighters, ready to engage the first wave of the Vajra counter-attack. Sheryl Nome's voice continued to masterfully sound over the comm lines, instilling a sense of confidence in each pilot's mind.

"Alright, guys!" the squadron commander barked over the radio, "To the pilot with the most confirmed kills, your drinks will be on me!"

With that, the massive attacking force of VFs fired off the first volley of missiles, formally initiating combat with the Vajra swarm now bearing down upon their positions. Though the missiles had thoroughly saturated the area in front of the VFs with their destructive power, a salvo of return-fire made its way through to the attacking squadrons, destroying several fighters and causing the rest to break their formations.

Swarms of large, red mecha-drones and smaller, yellow fighter-drones emerged from the firestorm raging on in the near aerospace to engage the VFs in close-range combat. A second wave of variable fighters moved in close behind the initial attack wave and unleashed their complements of MDE bombs towards the hardened Vajra defense positions. The relatively large bombs managed to weave their way through the Vajra munitions fire, penetrating deep into their formation before detonating. The furious destructive force of these new bombs managed to decimate much of the Vajra initial defense line. The offensive was already going by the numbers and the pilots of the first attack wave felt a blanket of confidence settling over them.

"I must be getting too good!" one of the pilots bragged, "These bugs just don't seem to have much fight in them!"

"Don't get too cocky, Mako-12. You've still got a lot to learn," another pilot chided.

The capital ships at the front of the attacking armada began to charge forward to take positions where the MDE bombs had sanitized the area of the bug infestation. Their deck guns fired at every possible interval, hoping to inflict as much attrition to the Vajra swarm as possible. Smaller anti-aircraft fire peppered the near aerospace to fight off any pesky drones that happened to slip through the initial VF attack wave.

"Guys, don't wander off too far," the squadron leader barked over the comm line, "The Normandy II's coming up behind us fast and we need to make sure she survives for as long as possible, now that the initial attack is over. The next wave of Valkyries will continue the attack in front and clear up some more breathing room for us."

"Roger that!" came the reply from most of the pilots.

Mako Squadron quickly contracted back to defensive positions around its mothership as another large wave of fighters sped through their aerospace on the way to the front lines to deliver their payloads. By now, there was a fairly dense field of Vajra carcasses and carrier wreckage floating around. Although somewhat gruesome at first sight, it was a sign of their successful penetration into the bugs' defense line.

Regardless of the weak Vajra response, a swarm of drones suddenly appeared from the wreckage fields, looking to remove the Normandy II and its fighter complement from the area.

"We've got incoming, pilots! Look alive, now!" the radio crackled.

One of the nearby pilots blindly charged into the formation of drones bearing down upon their position with zeal, "Oh yeah! Get some!"

"Mako-12! What the hell are you doing?" one of the pilots exclaimed as he witnessed a single fighter pierce its way deep into the attacking swarm.

The brazen pilot and his fighter soon found themselves desperately dodging incoming fire from the nearby bugs. Several clouds of chaff dispersed and the VF-171EX transformed into battroid mode to defend itself from the impending onslaught. Several Vajra missiles exploded nearby, the chaff particles doing their job of diverting the tracking abilities of the bugs' homing ordnance. It didn't take long for the first couple of Vajra to come charging at the now-isolated variable fighter. With a couple of skillful bursts from its vernier jets, the lone 171EX managed to dodge their strikes and returned fire with its particle cannon gunpod as they passed by. The white-hot energy projectiles effortlessly buried themselves within the husks of the drones, quickly causing them to explode in a violent death.

"I'm just distracting them for a moment. Don't worry, I don't plan on staying here for too long!" the pilot replied.

Right on queue, his MFD alerted him to another large salvo of Vajra missiles heading in his direction. The pilot wasted no time in reacting by transforming his VF back into fighter mode, unleashing another flurry of chaff, and punching his throttle to its maximum output setting. The pair of FF-2550F thermonuclear turbine engines on his fighter seemed ready for the task, propelling the craft out of harm's way with an impressive show of performance.

With the missiles impacting on the chaff behind him, the pilot of Mako-12 felt the sudden brunt of g-forces pressing his body back into his seat. He strained to breathe for a few moments until the EX-gear was able to relieve some of the effects of the sudden acceleration on his body. "Oh, my god! This machine is incredible!" he exclaimed with a slight laugh in his voice.

Several of the Mako pilots witnessed the rogue VF emerging from the Vajra formation, apparently unscathed. Mako-12 had done what he had set out to do, though. The bugs seemed to be completely distracted by the unexpected display of courage... or was it stupidity?

"You're crazy, man, you know that?" one of the pilots exclaimed as the rest of the squadron engaged individual elements of the Vajra swarm.

"That's two confirmed kills, though!" Mako-12 didn't really seem to care that he had put himself in harm's way rather unnecessarily.

"Lieutenant, if you do that again, I'll bust your ass back to ensign after this is over!" the squadron commander barked over the radio, "We work as a _team_ in this squadron. That kind of flying gets you killed out here!"

The comm lines fell silent for a moment before the pilot sheepishly replied to his commander's words, "Yes, Sir. Understood, Sir." Mako-12 quickly rejoined his wingmates to help them dispatch the attacking swarm.

"Still though, you did quite a number on their cohesiveness as a unit," the commander remarked as he easily dispatched another drone with a gunpod kill, "It makes our job a lot easier here. You've certainly got some moves on you, kid!"

"Thank you, Sir."

The Normandy II soon reached its destination, accompanied by a large complement of corvettes and gunboats. Meanwhile, the radio chatter informed the pilots that the colony ships were about to attempt a bold maneuver: they were going to penetrate through the now-engaged Vajra defense line and land on the planet's surface.

"Alright, listen up! We've got new orders, men!" the commander's voice barked over the comm line, "The Normandy II is going to help make sure that these colony ships make it through the defensive line in one piece! Our job is to protect her and to help protect the colony ships, alongside the other squadrons in the area. It's going to get hairy, so make sure you watch each others' backs out there!"

"Sir!" the pilots acknowledged.

It didn't take too long for one of the colony islands to approach their position. It was their signal to proceed forward, punching their way through the vast network of Vajra defensive nodes. The Mako Squadron VFs continued to dutifully execute their orders to the letter, keeping the Vajra drones at bay with their teamwork and piloting skills.

Mako-12 returned to its mothership's vicinity, after a brief encounter with a group of drones. The pilot took up a position in front of the Normandy II and transformed into GERWALK mode to match speed. Although his VF was not much more than a speck compared to the Guantanamo-class carrier, he turned his head to see the enormous colony island behind them. Its sheer size was nearly mind-boggling from that point of view. They'd need to clear a hole the size of a small moon to maneuver that thing through. Still, even _it_ was much smaller than the Island-1 colony ship sailing only a few hundred kilometers away.

"This is a lot easier than I thought!" chimed a voice through his radio headset.

"Don't get cocky, guys! This thing ain't over 'til it's over!" the commander replied. "We've still got a ways to go until we reach the planet's atmosphere, so stay frosty!"

Sheryl's voice continued to play over one of the comm lines, reminding each pilot that the operation was still running as planned. However, the sound of another vaguely familiar singing voice began to flow into their ears.

Narrowing his eyes as he tried to identify the voice, Mako-12 started to look around through the canopy of his cockpit, in an attempt to find the source of the signal. "Is that...? No, it couldn't be!" he exclaimed to himself, struggling to accept the truth of the situation.

A colossal image of Ranka Lee suddenly appeared above the planet, protruding from the Vajra nest like some kind of Titan god seeking to inflict punishment on an insolent group of rebellious mortals. The cold, vacuous look in her eyes gave the impression that she no longer cared, nor had feelings for the people whom she once called her "friends".

"What the hell _is_ that thing?" another pilot exclaimed.

"Ack! These damn Vajra just got a hundred times more aggressive, for some reason! I can't get this guy off-" The message abruptly cut off, followed by a short burst of static on the line.

"Ah, shit! We just lost Mako-7!" Distress began to emerge from the voices of the pilots as they clamored with each other for help.

"Calm down, guys! Our job just got harder, but you can't lose your heads so quickly over this!" The squadron commander seemed only concerned about keeping his pilots from loosing their cool. Fear was definitely a pilot's worst enemy, when under combat conditions. "Remember your training! You knew that this wasn't going to be easy, so don't fool yourselves about that now!"

One of the Mako fighters desperately tried to shake off an attacking drone, but just couldn't seem to free himself from the sights of the Vajra mecha-drone quickly closing in on him. "I sure could use some help out there!" he exclaimed.

His wishes were quickly answered by the voice of one of his wingmates. "Hang in there for just another couple of moments, Mako-9! I've got you covered!"

As promised, the menacing drone was knocked aside by the impact of a missile on its back. The creature arched backwards to absorb the shock, but before it could recover, it was hit by three more missiles, cracking its carapace into smaller pieces and annihilating the remains.

"Thanks, Mako-12!"

Mako-1, the squadron commander, was having few difficulties of his own, despite the renewed fervor of their insectoid adversaries. His VF, in battroid form, held a confident stance as it fired its gunpod at a quickly-approaching drone. A charged particle, fired from the attacking Vajra, harmlessly passed by the leader's 171EX before the drone itself came into view. It had already been perforated by several rounds from the squadron commander's gunpod and was in its death throes when it passed by his battroid. The shockwave from its explosion gently pushed his battroid forward as the pilot locked his eyes on his next target. His VF quickly transformed back to fighter mode to engage another drone.

"See? These guys aren't so tough if you work together!" he declared, "Now, let's keep pressing forward. We have to clear a path for this convoy!"

His pilots gained a bit of confidence from his words, tightening up their defensive net in front of their mothership. The Normandy II charged forward into the heart of the Vajra formation, boldly drawing the ire of the drones and cruisers directly in front.

The almost-eerie songs of Ranka Lee continued to ring into each pilots' ears, attempting to drown out Sheryl's powerful voice. No matter how hard she tried, it seemed as though she could not compete with the power of Ranka the Betrayer.

With the unison and synchronicity of a single entity, the entire Vajra armada opened fire with its most powerful weapons. The pilots of Mako Squadron quickly found themselves desperate to avoid getting hit by the incoming artillery fire.

"Scatter, pilots! That is one helluva shitstorm heading this way-"

The radio cut out as soon as the area became saturated with columns of beam cannon energy. Surely, the amount of electromagnetic interference from the artillery fire was wreaking havoc with the communication lines during that very moment.

The squadron began taking hits from the barrage of super-dimensional energy, and several variable fighters were instantly incinerated. Just as it seemed like the wave of artillery fire had completely passed by, one of the beams impacted at shallow angle directly below the bow of the Normandy II. For a split second, its heavy armor resisted the brunt of the strike, but it quickly gave way to the superior energy source. The beam forced its way through the hull of the ship, taking only a moment to find its way back out through the other side. A gaping hole in the ship's superstructure briefly coursed with energy, before the reactors went critical and detonated. As the ship blew apart, several hundred lives simultaneously perished.

"The Normandy II is down!" one of the surviving pilots yelled into the radio, his voice laced with panic and despair.

Immediately, the pilots of Mako squadron felt their hearts sink into their chests. All of their fellow shipmates, no doubt, had just met a very fiery and violent death. Not to mention, their squadron was now decimated by the artillery strike.

Mako-12 checked his MFD for any signs of the squadron commander, but it reported the complete destruction of the Mako-1 VF. He clicked his tongue and gritted his teeth as he realized that he was the only lieutenant left in the squadron and he was now the ranking officer. He looked towards the rear of the formation, only to see that the island ship that they were escorting was now billowing with smoke and fire. The oxygen inside of the ship was quickly escaping into the vacuum of space and fueling the fires raging outside of the ship's hull.

He gulped before opening the comm lines to the rest of his wingmates, "Mako Squadron, sound off! Who's left out there?"

"Mako-4, reporting!"

"Mako-11, reporting!"

"Mako-16, here!"

No other responses came. Only the sound of Ranka's voice could be heard. Her song now played the death knell of the brave souls on that ship and of the pilots who had just perished in combat. ...not to mention the rest of the armada that had just met their destruction elsewhere in the formation.

"That makes four of us, guys," Mako-12 said with a somber tone in his voice, "We still have a job to do, though. Form up on my wing and let's make sure to avenge the deaths of our shipmates and wingmates."

"Roger that!" they all responded.

Mako-12 took a deep sigh and quickly convinced himself of his impending fate. Things didn't look to good for him and the rest of his squadron mates. He looked at the mirrors to the sides of his MFD to see that they were now in position as ordered. There was an eerie calm at that very moment, but there was no time to ponder as to why it was so unusually calm.

Just before Mako-12 took his eyes off of his mirrors, he noticed the sudden flash of several energy-based projectiles passing through the hull of the VF to his left and rear from above their formation. The fighter's frame immediately snapped in half and the two halves exploded. Not a peep was heard from the pilot before his demise, but the agony of his death could be felt almost instantly by his wingmates.

A purple-ish blur zoomed past Mako-12's position and quickly disappeared behind the wrecked hulk of one of the nearby capital ships.

"What the...? Did anyone catch that?" he asked over the radio, whipping his body around to track the craft with his eyes..

"No! It's not showing up on the radar. It went behind that wreckage over there."

The pilots all simultaneously peered at the wreckage, hoping to catch a glimpse of their elusive attacker, but no movement came from that area. It was almost as if he was daring them to find him in that mess.

"Keep your eyes peeled. There's no way that he'll just leave us alone like that," Mako-12 ordered. The three remaining VFs cautiously approached the wreckage to pursue their assailant.

Almost immediately, they found themselves in their attacker's targets. A barrage of energy-based projectiles peppered the aerospace in front of them. The combined speeds of the 171EXs and the opposite flow of the incoming fire made it nearly impossible to dodge any potential hits. Pure luck would be needed to escape harm from this attack. Mako-11 took a direct hit on his nosecone, sending the destructive energy through the length of his fuselage and destroying the craft.

The other two 171EXs managed to emerge unharmed, but they were now down another wingman. They both sped through the debris field, desperately trying to locate the elusive craft. Suddenly, Mako-12 caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked upwards through the canopy to see the mysterious craft bearing down on his wingmate, only a few dozen meters ahead.

"Mako-4, eleven o'clock high! Incoming!"

It was too late for the pilot to react. His VF was perforated by several rounds from the attacking craft's gunpod fire, causing it to break apart into a few pieces before exploding. The attacking craft brazenly zoomed in front of Mako-12's view, passing from top to bottom at its extremely high attack speed. However, the pilot was able to catch a quick glimpse of the craft's profile. Its shape was unlike anything he'd ever seen in person before, but it slightly resembled the shape of a craft that he had seen in a general bulletin to the pilots in the NUNS sent out many weeks before. All additional information about the craft had been carefully concealed by high-level classification up to that point. Rumors of a highly-advanced fighter lurking around the convoy for months had _remained _rumors; the NUNS and Frontier government were unwilling to confirm nor deny its existence. There were signs of a massive cover-up, but no hard proof ever came to light. The term "foo-fighter" briefly came to his mind, but there was no time to mull over the evidence at hand.

"Tch!" Mako-12 shook the thoughts from his mind and clicked his tongue as he rolled his craft over 180 degrees. He then snapped his throttle to its 45-degree position. The VF-171EX immediately responded by detaching its engine nacelles from the body of the craft and allowed the pilot to quickly pitch his fighter's attitude upwards 90 degrees, before re-entering fighter mode and pursuing the speedy craft from behind.

The 171EX furiously chased its target through the debris field. Meanwhile, its pilot patiently waited for the targeting computer to gain an aspect lock on the agile bird now in front of him. He teased his fighter's attitude to help the computer gain a lock more quickly, but he soon realized that he was not able to keep up with this seemingly uncatchable craft. Indeed, the 171EX had more powerful engines than its predecessor, but they were no match for this adversary.

Mako-12 switched to GERWALK mode to reverse thrust and slow himself down. He then switched to battroid form and drew his particle beam gunpod in preparation to defend himself from his attacker. No doubt, there was going to be another attempt on his life; pilots like the one flying this "foo-fighter" would never just give up on their attack. They always get the job done, no matter what.

The battroid floated through space, constantly turning in every direction in an effort to locate its attacker. A large piece of wreckage slowly drifted by Mako-12's position and when it finished passing by to reveal the 171EX once again, nothing remained. The pilot had taken the opportunity to shroud himself in a bit of a cloak of his own, hoping to get the drop on his attacker. It seemed that the encounter had turned into a brief game of hide-and-seek.

Mako-12 focused on the sound of his breath resonating through his helmet. Somewhat physically exhausted from combat, his breaths were short and rhythmic. The field of stars and debris slowly revolved around his position. The large chunk of wreckage was rotating on all three axes as it floated through space. In the distance, the great conflict could be seen raging on with the image of Ranka still towering over the entire battlefield. Her voice could still be heard in his ears.

Only several moments later as the chunk of debris continued rotating, the sight of a purple-ish battroid came into Mako-12's view. It appeared to be looking away from him, searching for any sign of its prey. Mako-12 gasped in surprise, realizing that he had an opportunity to dispatch his attacker with little chance of retaliatory fire. As the 171EX battroid raised its gunpod, the "foo-fighter" quickly whipped around; it seemed to have eyes in the back of its head. The trigger on Mako-12's flightstick clicked loudly as he mashed his index finger inwards to open fire on his target.

The "foo-fighter" immediately protected itself from the incoming fire with the anti-munitions shield on its battroid's left arm. With each impact from Mako-12's gunpod fire, the "foo-fighter" was pushed away further and further from its attacker, until it finally took the opportunity to transform back to fighter mode and escape unharmed.

Mako-12 continued in pursuit of his attacker, but quickly lost sight of him in the debris field. "Goddammit!" he exclaimed to himself in frustration. He couldn't let himself lose his cool, though. He quickly refocused himself and began to search for his attacker once more.

Only this time, the "foo-fighter" didn't waste any time on mounting a counter attack. Mako-12 immediately found himself under fire from the attacking craft, furiously trying to dodge every attack. The "foo-fighter" circled around him, momentarily disappearing behind large chunks of debris, and somehow emerging from a seemingly-impossible position somewhere else. Mako-12 appeared to be under attack from all sides; the battroid was constantly whipping around towards its attacker in an effort to either dodge an attack or mount one of its own. Its gunpod followed every movement possible, occasionally firing a small salvo at its target.

Just as he began to consider punching his throttle to escape, Mako-12 took a direct hit on the battroid's back. The pilot was violently jarred in his cockpit, while several of the monitors fizzled out behind him. Luckly, the energy-conversion armor was able to spare the craft from complete destruction, but it was unlikely that he would be able to take another hit like that and survive. Out of desperation, the pilot snapped his throttle stick 90 degrees to the right and shoved the throttle all of the way forward.

The 171EX quickly responded, but the "foo-fighter" continued to harrass its prey. Mako-12 dove into the debris field for cover, his heart now pounding out of his chest. At this point, only his instincts would make the decisions. Just as he made a complete turn around a chunk of debris, his attacker zoomed by directly in front of him, passing from bottom to top. Mako-12 instinctively opened fire with his gunpod, but the "foo-fighter" was well out of gunsight by that time.

As it floated up above Mako-12, it flipped over, transformed into battroid mode, and passed through the corona of the nearby sun. Looking upwards at his attacker through his canopy, Mako-12 was temporarily blinded by the light of the burning star. He squinted his eyes to restrict the flow of light passing through his corneas, but vaguely made out the figure of the battroid now about to open fire upon him. His instincts kicked in once more, subconsciously instructing him to reach down between his legs and grab ahold of the handle below his seat.

Just as the battroid "foo-fighter" cleared the star's corona, it opened fire on the 171EX. The target was perforated multiple times, causing its attitude to rock to the port and starboard in the meantime. The canopy detached within microseconds and the pilot emerged from the cockpit, fully enveloped in his EX-gear.

A moment of relief passed over Mako-12 as he cleared the ship's extremities, but that all came to a violent end when his craft detonated, sending shockwaves passing through his flesh. Suddenly, an enormous pain coursed through his entire nervous system, coincided by a large "crack!" sound reaching his ears through the fluids in his body.

There was nothing after that. The defeated pilot felt nothing, heard nothing. His eyes continued to wince while his teeth grated across each other in his mouth. Slowly, but surely, his hearing began to return to him. The sounds of the radio in his helmet were still muffled, but the voices started to clear up. Although he couldn't move his limbs, he opened his eyes to see what was going on outside of his body.

The glow of the nearby planet was hard to miss, despite the blurry images now filtering through his retinas and into his brain. For a brief moment, the colors of the bluest oceans and fertile green lands blurred into one, unmistakeable shade, that of a beautiful planet below.

Suddenly, the color was consumed by darkness. The pilot's eyes strained to focus, but the image of a large piece of debris became apparent when it got too close to him. Unable to move any of his limbs, only his face showed any sign of reaction, a look of horror quickly taking shape. A blinding flash, and then nothing.

The lifeless body slowly careened away from the massive chunk of wreckage after viciously colliding with it. Continually passing in and out of consciousness, he could hear the garbled messages sounding from the now-damaged helmet. Static would sound, then a discernible phrase could be heard, followed by more static. Several dozen moments of a semi-conscious state passed, then a particular message could be plainly heard, "Sagittarius-1 has been hit!"

* * *

_A/N: Hi, and welcome to my Macross Frontier fanfic. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed thinking it up and writing it. It's my first attempt at writing, so be gentle... I spent the first few chapters reacquainting the reader with the existing characters, while also introducing a couple of new ones. Just in case things start to seem slow at first, don't worry. It will start to pick up around Chapter 5 or 6._

_I invite you all to comment on my story to give me your opinions, as I'd like to know what you think. I will post new chapters regularly, so keep checking back. I am still writing several chapters ahead of the posted content, so there's still much more to come. If you see anything that needs to be fixed, let me know._

(06/16/10): _For all you grammar nerds, I am currently working through the first few chapters to make some corrections. I had originally started writing this fic with the intention of using a present tense, but I later changed to past tense. I thought I had gone back and fixed the tense problem, but I guess I was wrong. Until I get everything cleaned up, just take the first few chapters with a grain of salt. This is, as I already mentioned, my first fanfic. Thanks for your readership!_

(06/28/10): _Chapter 1 has been altered and reposted with the corrected tense and a few minor changes here and there. I'll be working on updating the next few chapters while concurrently writing the new material to keep the story moving forward._

* * *

A lone, lifeless figure floats aimlessly through space. Wreckage and debris collide and grind against each other all around. Although this spectacular battle has come to an end, the war rages on within his subconsciousness.

As he struggled to open his eyes, he witnessed the sea of debris slowly part and a shadowy figure approached him through the rift. A voice whispered to him, "You're going to be okay." The voice is oddly familiar. "Don't give up on life, Cal. You must live on to fulfill your dreams." Suddenly, he recognized the voice and replied with zeal. "Marie? You're alive?" He frantically searched around with his eyes. The voice replied, "I'm alive... rather, I live on as your memory." His demeanor suddenly changed as he realized the reality of the situation. His eyes glazed over as he struggled to utter any more words. "I want to be with you, Marie. Why were you taken from me?" A seemingly endless pause filled the air around him. "Marie? Don't leave me again..." His voice began shake uncontrollably as he grasped at the empty air, hoping to feel her touch one more time. "You're going to be okay..." the soothing voice responded, but it transitioned to a deeper voice and the illusion seemed to shatter, "You're going to be alright, buddy."

A rescue worker tethered to his ship by an umbilical cord grappled the motionless body. He carefully strapped the body to a gurney and attached a second umbilical to it. The massive ship slowly drew the body in, while the worker carefully guided it by the floating debris so as not to cause any more harm. The injured soldier managed to open his eyes for one last look before the airlock doors slammed shut. Massive, hulking wreckages littered the space above the planet's glowing atmosphere. The floating debris formed a gruesome prison for the gorgeous blue sky.

...

A medical chart hung from the hospital bed. "Calvin A. Wagner" was printed at the top, followed by various charts and paragraphs organized neatly onto the top page. A television played an unintelligible program as white noise in the background. The table by the bedside was littered with various food packages, napkins, and cups. A small vase with some aging flowers managed to poke out above the garbage and looked like they were starving for water. The bed was just as much a mess as the table, with the blankets and pillows congealed together to form some kind of rudimentary covering. It looked like someone had been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately.

The patient was slowly waking up from his slumber as a nurse entered the room. "Lieutenant Wagner, it's time for your physical therapy," she said as she grabbed the nearby trash can and began to clear off the bedside table. Cal grunted in response, but remained motionless for a few seconds. The nurse attempted to cheer him up, "Remember, you're due to be discharged tomorrow, Lieutenant! I'm so happy for you. Now you can return to work and get back to protecting our new planet."

"Protecting, huh?" Cal muttered to the nurse, "I have nothing more to protect now." He quickly realized that his statement was subconsciously aimed at garnering sympathy from the nurse. It's been a long time since he's received any such attention from anyone. The nurse frowned, but before she could reply with the usual motherly response, Cal corrected himself. "I'm sorry, that was a bit harsh. I'll be fine. I've missed so much of the action. I heard that we have a colony to build now." The nurse smiled in relief. Good soldiers don't need to be propped up when they have lost hope. She stood outside the room while Cal changed his clothes. He insists on remaining independent, despite having suffered nearly-crippling injuries to his body. The last 3 months have been difficult. After a few laborious minutes, Cal emerged from his hospital room and the nurse accompanied him to the physical therapy gym.

Cal had no significant problems getting to the gym under his own power. He had a slight limp, and walked a bit slower than a normal person, but it's more than enough evidence for his doctors to authorize his release from the hospital. As Cal and the nurse reached the gym door, she turned to him while grabbing the door handle, but not opening the door. "You'll be leaving tomorrow and we'll all miss you, Cal. If I don't see you before you go, you take care of yourself, you hear? I meant it!" she said. "_Such a touching thing to say, but I bet she says that to every patient they discharge,_" Cal thought to himself. "Thank you for all your hard work. I will miss you guys too," he cordially replied. The nurse smiled and opened the door as she guided him inside by a slight touch to his shoulder. She squeezed it before she let go, but Cal didn't turn around to look. He's not good at goodbyes.

The therapist greeted Cal with a strong handshake. "Cal, I'm so proud of how far you've come from a couple of months ago. It's not often that people recover so fast from such egregious injuries. I'm surprised there's no permanent damage," he said with a bit of awe in his voice. "When we get done here today, we'll make a few appointments in the next few weeks so I can make sure you'll recover fully. I bet it's gonna be great to be able to walk normally again, isn't it?" he asked. Cal smiled in response. He remembered how much he's missed getting around on his own, and to a greater extent, how much he misses flying. "Sounds great," he replied.

A couple of hours later, Cal returned to his room, escorted by another nurse. Before he could make himself comfortable, an NUNS warrant officer paid him a visit. "Lieutenant Calvin Wagner?" he asked. Calvin replied affirmatively. With a salute, the soldier gave him a few envelopes he was carrying. "Your orders from command, sir. Welcome back." With a slight hint of disappointment, Calvin replied, "..and I was just beginning to think that the NUNS had completely forgotten about me." "I apologize for the slow response, sir. Needless to say, the past few months have been anything but slow and steady. Headquarters is in complete disarray trying to reorganize personnel and track down lost individuals. With all due respect, it looks like you fell through the cracks," the soldier nervously chuckled. Cal looked up from his unfolded letter in his hands and shot a quick glare to the soldier. He then laughed it off, "I understand. Thank you for your time." The soldier saluted and promptly left the room, no doubt on his way to deliver orders to some other poor hospitalized soul in another room.

At last, there's that sense of purpose that has evaded him for the last few months... Looks like the NUNS at least got around to assigning Cal to the barracks at the airfield on the other side of town. As he began to gather up his belongings and pack them into a duffel bag, he wondered what kind of crappy, God-forsaken post they had lined up for him.

It didn't take him long to finish his packing. After tidying up the rest of the room, Cal laid down on his bed and flipped on the television. A news program featured a pair of news anchors delivering the day's notables to its viewers. "Today, President Mulcahy met with New U.N. Spacy top brass. They gathered to address the issues surrounding the lack of organization behind the deployment of military forces. Since the founding of the new Frontier government, the NUNS has been in a state of disorganization that has caused a great deal of security concerns amongst the citizens," the anchorette said. A video of the President played in the caption box over her shoulder. A slight chatter from the news media workers mixed in with various clicks from camera shutters opening and closing. "My meeting with the Office of the Joint Chiefs today has already ignited a response to the concerns of the people over the lack of military presence protecting our fledgling colony and planet. I stand here, assured by these fine officers that the NUNS is taking every step necessary to achieve their former strength in the quickest time possible," said the President. Among many officers, the familiar figure of Catherine Glass could be seen in the background, folder in hand and apparently talking into a headset. The camera turned its attention back to the anchor team. "The President could not divulge any details on NUNS movements, but I'm sure that his words will assuage some fear and doubt from within the people of this colony," the anchor followed up.

Cal looked at the unfolded letter from NUNS HQ on his table. "I guess the President lit a fire under their asses today," he said to himself. That might explain the look of urgency on that soldier's face when he delivered the letters to Cal earlier that day.

The news program returned to the anchor pair in the newsroom. "In our final segment tonight, we have two very special guests joining us via video phone to talk about their upcoming concert aimed at supporting troop morale. The Galaxy Fairy, Sheryl Nome, and the Super-dimensional Cinderella, Ranka Mei Lee! Ladies, I can't tell you how excited we are about having you on our newscast tonight!" The picture broke into 3 boxes showing the news anchors, Sheryl, and Ranka. "Thank you," they both replied.

The anchor started out with his first question, "Sheryl, Ranka, the buzz around the entertainment news circles is that you two share a mutual, friendly competition with each other in your careers. You both chose to play this concert together for the troops. How did you two become such good friends and why did you decide to work together on this benefit concert?" They both laughed and Sheryl responded to the question. "Well, there's a little more to the 'competition' than just music, but we're not going to get into the details on that. Ranka and I made that promise to each other after our landing onto Aimo. We both know that we can push each other to do our best in everything that we do, and that includes inspiring the people of Frontier City and the surrounding colony cities to keep working hard at building our new world into everything that we all dream of. Ranka, do you want to finish the answer?"

Ranka nodded, "We decided that we needed to properly thank the fine troops of the NUNS forces and all of the sacrifice they made to protect us during our long voyage and for giving us the opportunity to fulfill our mission of colonizing this planet. We've heard the rumors that the troop morale has gotten low and that the leadership has had its hands full trying to make sense of the chaos after their final battle with Galaxy's forces. Sheryl and I have many friends who are in the NUNS and we just want to be able to help them get through this tough time."

Sheryl and Ranka had determination written all over their faces. The anchorette followed up with another question, "Rumors have been swirling about both of you being involved in steamy romances. Would you like to let your fans know any juicy details?" A quick look of indecision popped up on Sheryl and Ranka's faces. Ranka replied, "Uh, it's probably not a good idea to bring up our personal lives in too much detail, but I will say that we do have a tight circle of friends and some of those friends have different levels of meaning to us. We love them all very much, so it's kinda moot to put any explanation as to who's who. I will say, however, that Sheryl has been especially important to me in the past few months. I can honestly say that you might not find someone more supporting and inspirational than Sheryl. Even though we frequently compete with each other, she's been nothing short of amazing in helping me get my career off the ground."

Sheryl immediately blushed in response to Ranka's compliments. "You are far too generous, Ranka," she said as she turned her statement towards the anchor pair and the television audience. "If it wasn't for Ranka, I would not be here today. Even though she's young and new to the entertainment business, she's managed to inspire me in more ways than I can describe. I look forward to seeing what content she's going to be putting out for us in the near future. I know that her talent is going to take her far and it's definitely making me push myself harder than I ever had to in my career to date."

The anchor pair was just dumbfounded by the amount of mutual respect these two songstresses had for each other. "Ladies, this is just amazing. We're so lucky to have two people like you at the helm of morale-lifting and inspiration for us all. I'm sure that the NUNS personnel will be back into shape in no time after your concert," the anchorette said. "We all look forward to this ground-breaking collaboration performance by you both and we hope that you will have much more to show us afterward. Thank you so much for taking some time to speak to us and our audience. Good luck with this weekend's concert!"

Both songstresses thanked the anchors and their caption windows closed to reveal the studio set behind the inserted caption boxes. "...and that's all for our newscast this evening. We wish you all a wonderful night and we will see you again tomorrow evening to recap the day's news. Good night!" the anchor said, while he grabbed his notes and jogged them on the desk. The anchor pair was then played off by the newscast jingle as they appeared to engage in a discussion; probably some dumb subject like the weather or some such nonsense. No doubt, it's a traditional exercise practiced by news teams for the past 100 years of broadcasting.

Commercials started to play after the ending of the newscast, but Cal turned the channel to a documentary station. He loves to study and chronicle the history of humanity... especially 20th century history and turn-of-the-century politics and culture. A show covering the Unification Wars between 1999 and 2009 was playing. He put the remote down and made himself comfortable.

...

Across the blossoming city, a limousine traveled through the evening moonlight along a newly constructed highway towards its residential destination. Reflections of the highway lights danced sequentially on the car's sheen finish as it pulled up to a cozy cottage-style house. Dense vegetation concealed the artificially-constructed carport covering the house entrance on the circular driveway. A lone figure emerged from the rear passenger side of the car and shut the door behind them. The car then continued forward to re-enter the highway from the driveway exit. The figure seemed to rummage around in a bag for something.

Inside the house, the atmosphere was calm. The lights were somewhat low and there seemed to be soft music playing in another room. A fireplace crackled in the dining room. There were two sets of dishes neatly spread out on the table, which was lit by a small candelabra. Two crystal goblets shimmered in the dimly lit room. There appeared to be a bucket of ice with a bottle of wine wedged in it a bit diagonally and it wore a cloth skirt to cover the bucket opening. The door unlocked with a snap and swung open.

Catherine Glass entered the house with an inquisitive look on her face. She hesitantly walked through the foyer and peered into the dining room to admire the eloquence of the table setup. A voice shot from the room next to the dining room. "Cathy? Is that you?" She put her bags down on the table in the entryway and headed to the door separating the dining room and the kitchen. It was a swinging door that was only bordered by a bright glow, no doubt coming from the lights on the other side. She pushed the door open and before she could step one foot inside, a figure darted in front of her to block her path.

"**Ozma**!", she said while taking a surprised, deep breath. Ozma Lee stood leaning against the wall with one hand; he held a dish towel in the other. His clothes were protected by a bright red apron, which was discolored in the center by various food residues. He wore a suggestive smirk on his face as he spoke, "You're just in time! Go ahead and make yourself comfortable; I'll be done in just a few minutes."

Cathy took a seat at one end of the table and glanced out of the dining room window, which faced the front of the house. Beyond the front yard and chain link fence bordering off of the house property, an occasional car passed by on the highway. She couldn't remember the last time she has had a whole night to spend with her dear Ozma. Work has been getting in the way every chance they have to spend time together. She's about to have dinner with the person who means the most to her... and if they're lucky, they'll be having breakfast together too. Cathy smiled as she slipped into a daydream state.

Minutes later, Ozma emerged from the kitchen with the _tour de force_: a carefully crafted meal complete with all the trimmings. He placed the dishes on the table with a swagger to match the beat of the faint jazzy ambience music playing somewhere in the house. Carefully and with the same swagger, he served helpings of his entrees onto Cathy's plate and handed it to her. She covered her mouth, trying to hold back any giggling in response to his slightly bizarre behavior. Ozma became more emboldened to continue his performance, as he could see Cathy's shoulders shaking to the rhythm of the laughter she desperately tried to hold inside.

After regaining her composure, Cathy just had to compliment Ozma's attention to detail, "I have to say... I am seriously impressed." "It's been too long since we've been able to spend a quiet evening together. I've had plenty of time to get everything right," Ozma said as he unwrapped the cork on the champagne bottle. "Plus, it may be awhile before we get any more time, now that deployment orders are finally starting to go out," he added. Cathy gained a look of exasperation on her face, "It's been so difficult to get anything done in the Joint Chief's office. It seems like we've just now been able to overcome the bureaucracy muddling things up between NUNS and the Frontier government." Ozma realized his statement might have rubbed her the wrong way, "Cathy, I didn't mean anything by that. Believe me, I know how hard you've been working. I'm glad that things are starting to clear up for you and I'm even more happy that you can spend the evening with me." Ozma strained to push the cork out of the bottle with his thumbs. It ejected with a hollow "_pop_!", followed by a foamy head of carbonation. He poured both glasses and sat down in his chair.

"What should we toast to?" Ozma asked. Cathy debated his question for a moment, "Let's just toast. I don't think we can localize any specific subject. We've been through a lot in the last few months and I would like to see this occasion as a well-deserved vacation of sorts." Ozma didn't have a problem with her answer and he raised his glass towards her, "A toast... to everything." Cathy met her glass with his; both taking a sip before they began to eat.

Cathy couldn't help but bring up a bit of work as a talking subject over dinner, "So, have you begun to make preparations for your deployment?" Ozma swallowed his bite to answer her question, "No, not yet. I wanted to focus on getting everything ready for tonight. I'll get started tomorrow. Looks like I have a lot of positions to fill in SMS now. NUNS has requested that we expand to four teams of fighters in order to help them get some pilots out of their barracks and back into service." "I saw the orders," Cathy said, "Let me know if you need any help finding good pilot replacements. It looks like what we're going to be doing, for the most part, is setting up teams of two pilots and assigning them to space combat patrols to help secure our immediate planetary surroundings. I think it would be easiest for you if we throw a handful of pilots your way and you can pair them up with your pilots so they can do a bit of talent 'scouting' for you." Ozma grinned in response, "Looks like you've made up your mind already. I like it. I'll let you know of how many and what type of personnel I'll be needing in the next couple of days. I need to get together with Klan so we can discuss the squadron's needs in detail."

Cathy looked down at her food in reflection, "That poor girl. I can only imagine what she's gone through since Michael's death. Come to think of it, I was very close to being in her company because a certain someone wasn't willing to go the hospital after being wounded." Cathy's gaze pierced Ozma's flesh. He could swear he felt his skin burning very slightly. Cathy continued flirtatiously, "I swear if you do something like that again, I will kill you myself. Your stubbornness is gonna be the death of you some day." Ozma exclaimed with a cocky tone, "I've said it many times before: I can't die! I don't know about you, but I plan on living forever!" Cathy was initially taken aghast at the carelessness of his statement, but then she realized that she's talking to the Ozma Lee she fell in love with so many years ago. By now, she shouldn't be surprised by some of the stuff that comes out of his mouth.

Ozma returned back to the subject at hand, "Klan can handle herself. She's quite a strong person. I'm not terribly worried about her, although I have noticed she's become much more overbearing than usual on her subordinates." Cathy responded, "I think making her your executive officer was the right thing. In fact, promoting Alto Saotome to a team leader was also a great move. He's become a natural leader and he's going to be a great squadron leader some day. Under your leadership, I can tell SMS is going to become the shining example of elite fighter squadrons throughout the NUNS." Ozma couldn't just simply take a compliment like that. He had to turn the attention back onto Cathy, since he doesn't like to deal with compliments. "That Joint Chief's office is getting whipped into shape, I hear. There's been talk of a beautiful, young, and intelligent officer keeping those guys in line over there. Have you met her yet?" he said. Cathy couldn't think of a witty retort and instead blushed and fumbled with her fork on her plate.

"This evening is just what I needed, Ozma. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this and how much I appreciate your words of support," Cathy admitted as she took her last bite off her plate. Ozma was already reclining in his chair, having finished eating a few moments earlier. He got up and walked around to behind Cathy and began to massage her shoulders and neck. "Just let me take care of everything tonight. It's just you and me here and that's all you need to worry about now," Ozma said gently. Cathy tilted her head to rub Ozma's hand and arm with her cheek. She kissed his hand softly and firmly embraced it with one of her hands.

The atmosphere in the city is one of relief and impending transition to the next phase, so to speak. Everywhere, people are enjoying the quietness of the evening. Tomorrow feels like it's going to be the start of a new period of construction, innovation, organization, and most importantly, the further bonding and strengthening of human relationships.


	2. Liberation

At the crack of dawn, the blanket of warm light begins to descend from the tops of the tallest buildings in Frontier City. The crisp, cool morning air is accompanied by a beautiful cloudless sky and caressed by a gentle breeze. Residents all over the city are greeted by the sun's comforting glow.

Military personnel working on the airfield outside of the city toil to prepare their equipment for their coming missions. Out in the expansive ocean bay, the Macross Quarter is moored offshore. Numerous Valkyries and supporting equipment litter the flight deck. Hopefully, nobody will be needing to take off anytime soon since there seems to be no room for a traditional launching of vehicles. Tiny figures scurry about from vehicle to vehicle in haste to complete their deployment preparations ahead of schedule. A single figure stands a the edge of the deck, looking at the edifices of Frontier City in the distance. The morning breeze keeps his hair and clothes in motion.

Alto Saotome, the newest squad leader in SMS, appears lost in thought. No doubt, his recent promotion to first lieutenant is enabling him to see things from a slightly different perspective from before. Thoughts of his friends, his family, and his impending departure for space are holding his mind hostage.

Nearby, Luca Angelloni is hard at work pounding away at his laptop computer. A twisted strand of wires and cables stretches from the back of his laptop to his Valkyrie and his drone fighters tied down to the deck close by. He reaches into a nearby knapsack and pulls out some rather exotic-looking food. It looks like Nanase lovingly packed him a day's supply of food and snacks. He takes a bite and continues working on his computer.

Inside the Quarter's hangar, various activities are being performed simultaneously. The audio ambience is fraught with mechanical whirring and clacking. The combination of workers installing and repairing the systems, various mecha testing out their movement systems, the chatter and occasional yelling between workers, and the gentle hum of the hangar lighting permeates the air.

The enormous Koenig Monster, fresh from its repairs at the factory, tests out the firing mechanisms in one of the arms that were damaged in the descent operation a few months back. Kanaria Berstein sits patiently in the cockpit, waiting for the maintenance crew to give her the results of the previous testing. This battle-hardened mother and wife continues to serve faithfully as a protector of her family and the rest of the population of Aimo. She uses this pause in testing procedures to reflect on the past few months she's used to spend time with her husband and son. She will no doubt be thinking of them constantly while the Quarter is serving its deployment orders.

Across the hangar, two Queadluun Rheas stand against a wall. Various cranes and mechanical lifts are positioned to their sides. Many maintenance hatches on the Queadluuns are opened with crew working inside or computer cables extending to the floor. The pilot hatches are open with Klan Klang and Nene Rora inside their respective power armors. The two Zentraedi are busy testing out the motor systems on the Queadluuns. The arm appendages and rudimentary hands move about in a repetitive fashion. The pilots are closely communicating with the miclone technicians working in and around the Queadluuns.

Up on the bridge, a single figure sits in the captain's chair. Captain Jeffrey Wilder takes a sip of his hot tea while he casually reads technical schematics and readouts from the console in front of him. The nearby sun is the only source of illumination on the bridge. A cozy view of the sunrise is the perfect backdrop to Captain Wilder's morning breakfast.

The rest of the bridge crew arrives one at a time to man their posts. They all greet the Captain before moving to their stations. Monica Lang, who has become "close" to the Captain, takes her seat at radar control. Mena Roshan logs into the ship's computers to begin a complete systems diagnostics. Lam Hoa dons her radio headset and begins to chatter with the local airspace control tower. Bobby Margot checks in at the helm control station and glances over at the empty Flight Control Officer station to his left. He turns to the Captain with a question that's been bugging him for a few days.

"Captain, we've all been wondering... Who's going to replace the lovely Cathy as Flight Control Officer?" he asks. Captain Wilder puts his teacup down and pulls back his sleeve to reveal his watch. "The answer should be here any second now." Just then, the bridge entrance door opened, revealing Wilder's answer. A young woman emerges from the doorway and immediately marches to the Captain's chair.

"First Lieutenant Jennifer Wentz reporting as ordered, sir. What are my orders?" she barked, while saluting the Captain. Wilder paused for a moment, thinking of a way to bring her head back down from the clouds. "While your formality is appreciated, it is not necessary here. You may stand at ease, Lieutenant," he said. Jennifer relaxed and nodded in response. "I was just reading up on your personnel folder and it looks like you've got a lot of experience operating flight control. I requested an FCO-capable officer from NUNS HQ and you're their best choice," Wilder stated. Mena, Monica, and Lam could be seen in the background whispering to each other as they looked on to the exchange taking place at the captain's chair.

Bobby was happy to make her acquaintance, "I'm Bobby Margot, the ship's helmsman." He turns to the trio of females clustered together on the side of the room. "...and these three lovelies are Monica, Mena, and Lam," he continued. The ladies all greeted each other. Bobby walks towards the flight control station near him, "You'll be working right next to me, so let me know if you need anything. I'll be glad to help you, Miss Wentz."

"Please, you all can just call me Jen," she blushed. "I'm glad to be working with such a wonderful group of people!" Bobby scoffed slightly, "The pilots you will be working with may not be so hospitable, so be forewarned. You'll be working with some of the best pilots in NUNS, so you need to be on top of your game or they won't take kindly to your orders." Jen reeled back in surprise. She forgot about the famous Skull Squadron being stationed on the Quarter.

Wilder did his best to comfort Jen's sudden apprehension. "They're not **that** bad, Bobby. Remember that we will be receiving new pilot recruits soon after we reach our station in the system. The squad leaders will all have their hands full getting their chicklings in order. They won't have the time or the energy to direct any ill will towards you if you make a mistake here or there. Just have confidence in yourself and what you do. They can smell fear and you can't afford that," he said. Jen regained her composure and nodded in response, "Yes, Sir." She turned to her station to begin her preparation checklist. Bobby and Wilder looked at each other briefly before turning their attention back to their stations.

Back on the flight deck, Luca approaches the motionless Alto. "Sempai? You're awfully quiet. Have you completed your diagnostics on your Valkyrie already?" he cautiously asks. Alto stands quiet for a moment. "Luca, while you're on duty, don't you ever think of what Nanase is doing at that moment?" he says, turning towards Luca. Luca must think for a moment of how to carefully phrase what he's thinking without sounding too dependent on the company of Nanase. "Of course I do, but when we're on duty, I remind myself of how much she wants me to be the best at what I do. I wouldn't expect any less of her in her work." Luca felt good saying that. He knows that Alto can recognize how much he's matured in the past few months.

"Nanase is doing what she loves. Working with Sheryl and Ranka has been nothing short of a dream come true for her and I'm so happy because of it. I think it's great that the three of them get to work so closely together. I know how good it feels because I consider you all to be my best friends. I can even still feel Michael's presence around us, even though we can't see him anymore," Luca professes with confidence. Alto carefully listens to his words and even manages to find a bit of strength from Luca's statement. It will help ease his mind as he prepares himself psychologically for the indefinite deployment ahead of him.

Alto smiles before responding to Luca's words, "To answer your question, yes I did finish my preparations. Let's go see if anyone else needs help. I'd like to be able to relax for the next couple of days before our departure." Luca agrees and they both start walking towards the hangar where Kanaria, Klan, and Nene were last seen. A small team of technicians hook the pilots' Valkyries to a tug truck and begin to maneuver the planes to the deck elevator for storage.

Other military personnel are preparing for their new assignments, including Calvin Wagner. Up since before dawn, he's been waiting for the official nod from the discharge office so he can get back to duty. Fortunately, the hospital staff is not one to keep him waiting. A group of nurses and a couple of doctors promptly show up at his door with a wheelchair.

"Congratulations!" they all say in unison. Cal tries his hardest to not act like he's surprised, but he can't help but put a big smile on his face and laugh. Apparently, he's been quite the popular one during his stay there. "You've gotta be kidding me... all of you volunteered to show me off?" he says. "Yup! Despite what you might think, you've managed such an impressive recovery, that we all had to come and let you know how much we appreciated your hard work," one of the nurses chimed in. Cal was confused at the statement, "You guys appreciate me?! Heck, I should be the one saying that to you all. If it wasn't for YOUR hard work, I don't know what I'd be doing right now."

"What are you going to do now?" another nurse asked. "I already have my orders to move into the barracks to await my deployment... wherever that is going to be, " Cal replied. He grabbed his duffel bag and sat down in the wheelchair. "Wherever you go, we know you'll make us all proud," Cal's doctor said as they headed into the elevator.

A taxicab patiently waited for Cal to come out of the front door. "The NUNS was even nice enough to charter you a ride to your new quarters. You must be a popular guy wherever you go!" one of the nurses said. Cal smirked, "I doubt it. I'm just your average pilot... No heroic deeds have been accomplished yet... and I do mean '_yet_'." Leaving with handshakes and hugs all around, Cal lowered himself into the cab. The doctors and nurses waved goodbye one last time and headed back into the hospital to return to their positions.

Cal watched from his moving cab, as the hospital disappeared behind another large building. That ends another chapter of his life. The next one is still unclear and it gives him a little feeling of anticipation... it's been a few months since he's seen anything beyond the window of his room and the confines of the hospital walls. The cab driver is moderately talkative. They exchange conversation about Cal's injuries and what he thinks he's going to do with his career as an NUNS pilot. The distant thoughts of a love that was separated him some time ago begins to enter his mind once more.

In front of the airfield, the cab pulls up to the curb usually designated for bus drop-offs and pickups. Cal bids the driver farewell as he approaches the front gate. The guard verifies his identity and directs him to the location of the barracks on the other side of the base. Cal declines the guard's offer to have a vehicle pick him up to transport him there. Cal wants to test out his walking abilities and use the time to think back to what he's missed out on the past few months. More importantly, the pain of loss still lingers and reminds him of the preciousness of life and loved ones.

After walking for 15 minutes or so, Cal notices a very large structure built across one of the runways. He stops a passing soldier to ask what is going on. "Oh, that! That's the stage for the upcoming concert starring Ranka Mei Lee and Sheryl Nome! I hope I get to go, cuz I'm a huge fan of both of those wonderful ladies!" Cal thanks the soldier and continues on his walk. He doesn't like to admit it, but he does find their music to be quite inspiring, despite his varying tastes. He mostly listens to rock and roll, but always finds time to explore other genres. He can hear sound testing going on in the distance. It appears that everyone's hard at work setting up for the upcoming concert.

Workers toil away at the enormous concert set. They dot the structure on all sides like ants feasting on a freshly-fallen piece of candy. On stage, Sheryl works with stagehands on setting up markers on the ground so she knows where she should be standing at all times during the concert. Behind a few loose props, Ranka and Nanase discuss new costume designs as they flip through magazines and a sketchbook. In his usual rushed fervor, Elmo Kridanik comes running up to deliver some developing news regarding their concert.

"Ranka! How are the preparations coming? Is it possible to push the concert date up one day?" "Why do you ask?" Ranka replied. "I just got off the phone with NUNS HQ and they notified me that they have issued comprehensive deployment orders that are to be carried out the day we scheduled the concert. They want to know if we can play the concert before all of the soldiers leave for orbit and beyond," Elmo exclaimed. Ranka stood up from her chair. Only one word entered her mind, "Alto." "Did they tell you who is going to be deployed?" Ranka asked. Elmo shook his head, "They only told me of the deployment. So, do you think it can be done?"

"Can what be done?" a voice called out from behind the props. Sheryl walked into the meeting area with a drink in her hand. Ranka turned to Sheryl and explained what Elmo had just told her. "I already told them that I am sure we can do it, but I wanted to get approval from you two before I gave them any definitive answers," Elmo added. "The set construction foreman told me that his crew should be done by the end of the day today. The stage techs are confident they'll be finished early tomorrow. I think it can be done, if you two are willing to do it," he continued.

Sheryl and Ranka looked at each other briefly; they could read each others' minds. "We'll do it," they both said simultaneously. Elmo clapped his hands together and rubbed them rapidly. He then turned and left the backstage area to deliver the news to NUNS HQ. "We'll have a lot of work to do today, then. When we're done, let's all get together at the new Nyan Nyan that just opened up two days ago. The owners sent me a letter inviting us to help with their opening," Nanase suggested. Everyone cheered at the idea and returned back to work harder than before, determined to meet their new deadline. However, they're not the only ones working on a strict timetable...

A black limousine idles outside of Ozma's house. The gorgeous landscaping details can be clearly seen in daylight. Dew glistens and sparkles like a blanket of diamonds over all of the plants nearby. Ozma and Cathy exit the house together and embrace each other a last time before she gets into the limo to return to work at NUNS HQ. "Last night was exactly what I needed, Ozma. I will be sure to return the favor when I get a chance," Cathy said as she sat down in the backseat. "I enjoyed our time together as well," Ozma replied, "Don't worry about returning the favor. I just want you to focus on your work now. I have to get over to the Quarter in a bit anyways." Cathy won't let his hard work go unrewarded, though. She simply looks at him and says, "Pineapple cake." Ozma smiles and straightens up as Cathy closes the door. He waves goodbye while the limo pulls away from the curb. It's amazing how the simple things can mean so much between two people who love each other.

Some time later, Ozma's car drives through the front security gate of the airfield. On his way to the base harbor to catch a boat to the Quarter, he passes by a single soldier walking alongside the road. Ozma stops the car and rolls down the window, "You lost, soldier?" "No, sir. I just decided to walk to the barracks. I've got my orders right here," he replied shaking the paper in his hand. "I haven't seen you around here before. What's your name?" Ozma asked. "2nd Lieutenant Calvin Wagner, sir. I was just released from the hospital this morning and I'm on my way to return to service." "The hospital, huh? Did you take a nasty fall down some steps?" Ozma chided. "No, sir. I was critically injured in the descent operation a few months back. The doctors say I should have been dead, but here I am. I'm very excited to finally get back to work," Calvin replied as if he wore his injures like a badge of honor. Ozma noticed the wings on Cal's uniform, "A pilot, huh? Well, let's hope you haven't injured your pilot senses too, right?" Cal didn't take too kindly to Ozma's comments, but he was talking to a superior officer. "I'll be back in the air before you know it," Cal responded kindly. He wanted so badly to show up this officer with his piloting skills. Who the hell does this guy he think he is, Max Jenius??

Fortunately, Cal gets through his encounter with Ozma without letting any disrespectful tones or statements slip from his tongue. He salutes Ozma as he drives away. Cal hopes to not be disturbed anymore before he gets to his quarters. He's already walked a couple of miles just to get to where he wanted to go in the first place. The last thing he needs with his recently-recuperated body is more delays. Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to walk...

After verifying the address on his letter, Cal puts the letter away and makes his way up the steps to the barracks. Several soldiers are outside socializing. It looks like these guys have had way too much free time on their hands lately. The scene is not entirely encouraging to Cal, who can't wait to get back in the sky again. He checks in at the information desk and receives some mail that's been waiting for him since yesterday. On his way to his room, he has to dodge various soldiers running through the halls. It's almost like he's moving into a college dormitory. Next thing he knows, he'll walk into his room to find a soldier sleeping in his bed completely drunk and passed out.

Fearing the worst, he opens the door to his quarters. Someone must really love him out there, because the room is in pristine condition and it appears that nobody has been staying there for at least a few days. He breathes a sigh of relief as he drops his duffel bag on the chair at the desk and hops into the top bunk for a quick rest. Unfortunately, the thin walls in the building allow all sounds in the halls and neighboring rooms to be heard fairly easily in Cal's quarters. It's going be a bitch and a half to get any semblance of rest or thinking done here.

Cal opens the letters he had received at the front desk. The first letter was from NUNS HQ greeting him on his return to service. Nothing new or important there... The second letter was an appointment at noon to appear at the personnel office for a physical, a skills assessment and possible placement into active duty. Great! Perhaps he won't be spending a lot of time in these overcrowded tenements. The third letter was an invitation to the benefit concert starring Ranka and Sheryl. Cal thinks to himself, "_Why in the world would they invite me? I've been off active duty for months!_" Reading further into the letter, it appears that NUNS has made an effort to include as many combat veterans as possible. I guess that explains why Cal was selected to attend, even though he was still relatively new to NUNS.

The fourth and final letter had a very familiar return address. "David Nguyen, Bell-Casse Dynamics" was written in the corner of the envelope. Cal's eyes lit up as he tore open the envelope. The letter was formally written and was printed on watermarked paper. Some important information was definitely written here. "Cal, I heard you are making it out of the hospital and going back into the service. When you get a chance, we'd like you to come see us before you get shipped off to some God-forsaken place. We have some great news we'd like to share with you. We've also got a case of beer with your name on it, so come help us celebrate your recovery!" Cal finishes reading the brief message and puts the letter down to do some thinking. His feelings are mixed, for some reason, but he decides that he should look forward to the reunion with his old co-workers.

Back in the bay, Ozma returns to the Quarter to check on the status of his squadron's preparation for deployment. Ozma calls Klan into his office for a meeting of utmost importance. After a quick hop into the micloning chamber, Klan enters Ozma's office takes a seat across from him at his desk.

"You asked to see me, sir?" she inquired. Ozma took a deep breath. There was a lot for him to cover. "We're being deployed, " he simply said. "It's about time. What do I need to know?" she asked. "Looks like we're going to be playing 'planetary police'. We're going to be keeping an eye out for any unusual activity in the Kihnes Asteroid Belt. Even though HQ simply says 'police', my instincts tell me that something else is going on. Nobody has officially mentioned a word as to the whereabouts or condition of City Galaxy. Through all of the reorganization that NUNS has gone through since the founding of Frontier City, nobody has been keeping up with what's going on outside of this planet's atmosphere. It's really disappointing to me, to be honest," Ozma replied. Klan was about to respond, but Ozma continued, "That's not all. NUNS has ordered us to expand Skull Squadron and organize it into 4 teams of 4 fighters. They've left the details up to my discretion, but it looks like we will be taking in some new pilots to our little gang."

Klan is reluctant to make any snap decisions. "Have you told the rest of the crew here?" she asked. "No, as my squadron XO, I think it's best if I discuss this with you before we make any decisions," Ozma replied. Klan appreciated the respect she's getting as the last few months have been very distracting to her. "Thank you for confiding this in me, Ozma. However, I am very resistant to bringing in chicklings to our squadron. I don't feel like babysitting a bunch of kids. I'd rather be able to depend on my wingmates to do their jobs instead of taking care of crying babies," she replied flippantly. "Klan, this is the way of the NUNS... but there is some good news for you. We're to be assigned as a elite special forces unit. That means that we can have the pick of the litter amongst available NUNS pilots. Perhaps they won't be a bunch of virgins like you might think."

This alleviated some apprehension from Klan, but her pride as an elite pilot overrided her sense of logic in this matter. "Ozma, you know I require a lot from my wingmates. Why do you think I haven't filled Raramia's place in Pixie Team yet? Any chicklings that find their way into this squadron are going to be subjected to a virtual hell by me. They'd better be good enough, or they're not going to be here for very long." Ozma smiled in response, "Klan, you wouldn't be squadron XO if you were any less of a soldier. I have the utmost confidence in your ability to keep these pilots on their best behavior." Klan and Ozma smiled at each other during the brief pause. She thinks to herself how great it is to have a superior officer who actually pushes her to keep improving herself. How can so much valor exist in such small bodies? Ozma continued with his orders, "Okay, I'm going to need from you a list of our current pilot roster, and detailed descriptions of the types of pilots we're looking for in each team. I've called a meeting in the briefing room in one hour. I need your report in 45 minutes." Klan stood up and saluted Ozma before leaving the room.

After waiting outside for his turn, Alto enters Ozma's office behind Klan. Ozma offered Alto a seat and got right down to business. "What's the status on our equipment?" Ozma asked. Alto had a notepad in his hands with his gibberish scribbled in a non-descript order. "All VF-25's passed their diagnostics tests and the two Queadluuns are good to go. However, there was a bit of a snag with the Monster. The techs say that they need a couple of parts to fix a mechanical malfunction in the firing mechanisms in the left arm. They told me they'll have it fixed overnight. All we have left is to take on supplies for our deployment. Have you been notified of our assignment, sir?" "Yes, I have, but I will brief you on the details in an hour," Ozma replied. "Good, then I will be able to create a supply manifest for NUNS to fill based on whatever it is that we'll be doing," Alto confidently said.

Ozma got up from his chair and looked through the venetian blinds to see the activity taking place in the hangar. "On a more personal note, Alto... How do you feel about leaving Aimo...? About leaving Ranka and Sheryl behind?" Alto had to think about his answer for a moment. Just for a second, he had to touch his emotional sense within him to make sure he knew what he was about to say was the truth. "I'm going to miss them very much. Being so far away and not being able to protect the people I care about is going to be a shock to my system, to be honest," he said.

Ozma turned around and sat back down. His mind was put slightly at ease hearing about the same feelings that he had about Ranka and Cathy. "The time has come for us to do our part for this new world. Even though we'll be many miles away for an indefinite period of time, we'll still be protecting them. That, I can promise you," Ozma said. The two pilots have common goals, it seems. Ozma can take solace in the fact that other people share the same unsteadiness of deploying into space. Satisfied with Alto's answer, Ozma returns the conversation back to the business end. "Okay, I'll need that supply manifest as quickly after that meeting as you can make it. We have a short timetable to work with and I want to make sure we leave this planet completely prepared for anything." Alto salutes as he leaves the office to meet up with the rest of the gang for lunch before the briefing.

Realizing he should take advantage of this break in the action, Alto joins the rest of the crew members already enjoying lunch in the Quarter's galley. He takes a seat next to Luca, Kanaria, and Nene. Just as he's about to take his first bite of his food, he notices Bobby, Mena, Lam, and Monica at another table with a new crew member. "Hey, who's the newbie over there?" Alto asks his lunch partners. "I think it's Miss Cathy's replacement as FCO," Luca answered. "Well does she have a name?" Alto inquired. Luca looked around at Kanaria and Nene, but they both shrugged. Whoever she was, it was somewhat inconsequential to the two of them. Alto continued eating his food but blurted out his next question before he was done chewing. "Nene, where's your sister?" he said, trying not to spray food from his mouth. "I think she had something urgent to take care of. My guess is it's probably under orders from Commander Lee," Nene answered.

"Damn, I was hoping to talk to her before the briefing. I'm dying to know what Ozma told her," Alto stated. Kanaria was a bit annoyed by Alto's impatience. "If Ozma wanted you to know, he would have told you. Just wait until the briefing. It's not like him to hold back information from his most trusted pilots. Even while you were a new pilot, you were told many highly classified secrets that could have cost him his career." Upon hearing Kanaria's words, Alto dropped the subject and went back to eating. Not much conversation was going on at their table while everyone ate. What's everyone being so hush-hush for?

Finally after a few minutes of dead silence from the four, Alto stands up and swallows his bite of food. "Okay, if nobody else is going to do it, I'll go talk to the new girl over there," he says while wiping his mouth off with a napkin and tossing it on his plate. Nene, Kanaria, and Luca watched as Alto glided over to the other table with the bridge crew sitting around it, introduced himself, and _attempted_ to engage in the conversation. They were too far away to hear, but it appears that Alto says something that upsets the girls and Bobby. Before any bodily harm can be inflicted onto Alto, he scurries back to his seat like a naughty puppy. He resumes eating with one hand propping up his head with a look of disgust on his face. A pregnant pause fills the air as Nene, Kanaria, and Luca stare at him awaiting an answer.

"Well?" they all asked. "Well what?" "What's her name?" they asked again. Alto finished chewing, swallowed, and took a deep breath. "Jennifer Wentz," he said dejectedly. "So... what did you do to piss them off?" Luca asked. Alto stared at Luca for daring to ask such a question, but he did deserve to be asked after that little display of idiocy at the other table. "Nothing," he said, picking up his plate and getting up from the table. Luca couldn't help but laugh after Alto left the table. "I know one thing's for sure. He didn't learn a thing about charming the ladies from Michael," he said laughing. "How he can have both Ranka and Sheryl fawning for his attention is beyond unbelievable," Kanaria chimed in. Nene tried to remain quiet, but she couldn't help but giggle at the events that just happened in front of her.

Right about at that point, crew members started to finish up their lunches. Some had begun to exit the room when Luca's laptop chimed an alarm. "It's time for the briefing," he said. The three remaining pilots got up from their chairs and headed towards the briefing room.

It was bustling with chatter as the crew members talked with each other on what they think the details of their deployment will be. Klan stood in the front of the room silently awaiting the entry of the ship's commanding officers. Right on time, Captain Wilder and Commander Lee entered the briefing room to give their reports.

"Captain on deck!" Klan barked as she stood at attention. The chatter stopped immediately as all of the crew members stood at attention as well. "At ease..." Wilder casually said. All of the crew members who had chairs sat down. The rest stood up along the outside of the room against the walls. Wilder put down his notebooks and began his briefing.

"Good afternoon and thank you for coming. I'm going to cover the overall synopsis of our upcoming mission," he says. The lights dim to allow for better viewing of the visual aids and diagrams that are displayed on the holographic projector near the front of the room. "As most of you already know, our encounter with the scourge that is Macross Galaxy left us with innumerable casualties and loss of precious resources during our voyage here and the subsequent descent operation onto this planet. Although we succeeded in destroying Battle Galaxy and freeing the Vajra from their control, City Galaxy is still unaccounted for and NUNS has deemed it to be a considerable liability while its position remains unknown."

The projector shows a view of the local planetary system with the sun to the side and each planet in the system. "Planet Aimo is the 2nd planet in the Coral system. Between Coral-5 and Coral-6 is the Kihnes Asteroid Belt. These asteroids are mineral-heavy, making them both a boon to our developing colony and a security threat. Because of the dense mineral deposits, the asteroids emit strong electromagnetic fields, obscuring our long-range sensors. It is Frontier Government's ultimate goal to harvest these valuable minerals in the near future in order to facilitate the construction of buildings and space vessels. Coral-6 is also rich in resources, but it is also a planet with a heavy gravity field and an extremely hostile atmosphere," Wilder continued.

The projection highlighted Coral-5 and the Kihnes Asteroid Belt. "We will begin our sweep of the asteroid belt starting at the point nearest to Coral-5. Our mission will have two objectives: Map and catalogue all micro-planetary bodies for prospecting teams to visit later, and attempt to locate City Galaxy," Wilder said as the projection dissipated and the lights returned back to normal levels. "I want to stress the importance of locating City Galaxy. NUNS intelligence believes the asteroid belt to be the most likely location, because it gives them a virtual invisibility to our long-range sensors. Our HIGHEST priority is to locate Galaxy. Once this objective is reached, we will report our findings to Frontier Government and await a decision. Before we reach the asteroid belt, though, we have one step to accomplish before deploying the search and cataloguing fleet. I will let Commander Lee explain." Wilder finished and stepped to the side to allow room for Ozma to work.

The lights dimmed again and a new diagram projected into view. The diagram was showed 4 squadrons of unmarked VF-25's. Ozma started his presentation, "NUNS has ordered SMS to become a front-lines elite fighter squadron. They have recognized the effectiveness and efficiency of our hard work and skills. I want to thank each and every one of you for making it possible for us to garner such acclaim and honor from NUNS HQ." The crew members in the room congratulated each other in a dull roar and some hands clapped. Ozma waited for the silence to return. "There were some stipulations to our assigned status, however. This means that we will be reorganized into 4 teams of 4 fighters. NUNS has allowed us to structure the teams any way we wish, but that also means that we will need to take on additional pilots and maintenance crews to supplement our existing personnel," Ozma said. The atmosphere of praise turned into hesitation. Numerous groans and clicking of tongues could be heard amongst the dull roar.

The projection changed back into a view of a large, orange planet with rings and a portion of the Kihnes Asteroid belt nearby. Ozma continued on his detailed explanation, "Our first step will be a space fold into orbit around Coral-5. Coral-5 is a gas giant with a dense ring of ice and rock particles. This will be an ideal training ground for our new pilots, as we will be spending most of our time in the asteroid belt. Once there, we will rendezvous with a few as-yet-unknown fighter carriers who will provide us with personnel support for combat patrols and various simulated battle scenarios. The battle scenarios will pit teams of fighters against each other to serve as a means to scout out the talent we will be needing to fill our mission parameters. Lieutenant Commander Klang will provide the details of our squadron organization."

Again, the projection turned off and the lights came on. Klan unfolded her arms and walked to where Ozma was previously standing. "We will assign a specialization to each team of fighters. The two space intercept/superiority teams will be led by Commander Lee and myself. Lieutenant Saotome will lead a team specializing in defense of the Quarter. Lieutenant Berstein will lead a team of heavy fire and artillery support pilots. Each team will be required to have one RVF-25 pilot so we can overcome the blinding electromagnetic fields in the asteroid field," Klan said. She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a small box.

"All RVF-25's will report to the squadron's lead reconnaissance officer. That team will be led by our newest 2nd Lieutenant, Luca Angelloni," Klan said as she tossed the box across the room and into his lap. Luca's face turned into stone in shock. He opened the box to reveal his new rank insignia. "Congratulations, Lieutenant," Klan said. The rest of the room erupted in applause. Various crew members gave Luca a congratulatory pat on the back. "Thank you so much, everybody!" Luca exclaimed as he stood up, nodded, and sat back down.

Klan continued with her report, "Luca, you will be in charge of the RVF-25's in the squadron. That means you will have 3 pilots, one from each team, reporting to you on a regular basis. Your skill and expertise in electronic warfare technologies will make you a fine leader in this role." Luca blushed at the compliments he was getting. "You will be flying as the RVF-25 in Commander Lee's team, Luca. This means we will need about 10 new pilots and the supporting maintenance crews for the upkeep. Commander Lee and myself will be the ones making the decisions on who will be joining us. Rest assured that we will not accept anything less than the very best the NUNS has to offer," Klan said, finishing up her report.

Ozma chimed in from the side, "We will be leaving the planet the day after tomorrow. Since NUNS has forced a hasty deployment, they requested that the Sheryl and Ranka concert be moved up to tomorrow in order to give you all a chance to take part in the ceremonies. I expect to see you all there tomorrow night!"

Wilder took center stage once more. "Thank you for your hard work, everyone. Let's show the NUNS the definition of 'elite'. Dismissed!" The crew members all stood up and begun chattering with each other about the news they had just received. Seems like there's a lot of hard work ahead for everyone, but it didn't seem to bother them at all.

Over at NUNS HQ, soldiers are being interviewed and processed for deployment as well. Cal is patiently waiting for his turn, along with many other soldiers who are hopeful about their future prospects. He's already gone through the physical and assessment tests. All that's left is the final interview with an officer. Every few minutes a different officer enters the room, clipboard in hand, and reads off a rank and name. The named soldier then leaves the room with the officer into one of the many doors down the hall.

Cal makes small talk with the other soldiers, who are happy to swap their war stories with each other. After waiting for a good solid hour, Cal hears his name being called out. "2nd Lieutenant... Calvin Wagner?" Cal perks up and leaves his chair to greet his interviewer. After the customary salute, the officer introduces herself. "I'm Commander Catherine Glass, senior Joint Chiefs advisor. It's nice to meet you," she says as she shakes Cal's hand. Cal is delighted to be interviewed by such a lovely woman. "Thank you, and you too," he says with a smile.

He follows Cathy into her office where they both take a seat at her desk. After opening Cal's personnel folder and reading for just a few moments, Cathy begins her examination. "I see that you were just released from the hospital after suffering quite debilitating injuries from the planetary descent operation. While I congratulate you on your recovery, I am concerned that your body might not be ready for the rigors of intense fighter combat. Why should I assign you to a combat-ready role?" Cal's answer quickly came to him, "As you can see, the doctors have cleared me for all combat-related duties, including flying a Valkyrie, ma'am. I passed my physical today, as well. I'm ready both psychologically and physically and I can't wait to get back into the pilot's seat." Cathy read his facial expressions and bodily language while he was responding. She nodded her head in agreement.

"Okay, before you started your career with NUNS, you had already logged thousands of hours of flying time while you worked for Bell-Casse Dynamics. Unfortunately, your actual combat experience is severely limited, due to your late entry into NUNS and your long recovery time from your injuries. Can you tell me how your skills will enable you to become an effective pilot despite those facts?" Cathy asked. Once again, Cal was ready for the question. "I flew a YF-24 Evolution, the precursor to the VF-25 Messiah, while test flying, so I have experience using a fighter that's already in service. I have also flown the VF-171EX Nightmare Plus in combat. I spent most of my time at Bell-Casse testing out new weapons systems and countermeasures in combat-simulated environments and the occasional fighter-to-fighter real-time battle scenario. My superiors always recognized me as their best test pilot, so I got the brunt of the testing workload. I believe that, although mostly simulated, my experience will bode me well in an actual combat scenario," Cal answered confidently. Once again, Cathy's impression of him was good.

"I can see that previous officers who interviewed you were impressed with your flight record and admitted you into the service as a 2nd lieutenant. That's a good sign. What made you quit the private sector and join the NUNS?" Cathy asked. This seemed to be the question Cal was hoping to not be asked. His demeanor turned into a more serious and forlorn one. "Well..." he trailed on, "Basically I left because my fiancee passed away." Cathy frowned, realizing she'd asked a question that was difficult to answer. Cal continued with his explanation, "My fiancee was a brilliant research scientist at Bell-Casse and she was fatally irradiated by a failed experiment of one of our projects. I'm not sure who was to blame, nor do I really care, to be honest. Mistakes happen and I'm not going to waste energy trying to punish someone for something they've probably already been hurt about enough. We were all really close friends at the labs." Cathy was now the one in the uncomfortable seat. Cal's story was beginning to pull her heart strings. "After her funeral and some time for grievance, I decided it would be best if I left the company to pursue another career since working there would constantly remind me of her. Becoming a combat pilot was the natural choice, given my extensive flight experience. It's enough action to help keep me focused on constructive activities. Plus, I want to do something I love and make a huge difference in other peoples' lives by doing it," Cal finished.

Cathy expressed her condolences and took a moment to regain her composure following a deep breath. "Okay, I can tell you really like what you do and you seem like you have a lot to prove. I have one final question for you, though. What do you want to do with your life now? Do you see yourself as going career, or do you plan on serving for a while and re-entering the private sector?" she asked. Cal took a moment and answered, "I don't know for sure at this point, but I have taken an interest in becoming a politician if I do leave the service. It's another great way to turn my hard work into something that benefits a lot of people... Wait, you said your name is Catherine Glass, right?" Cathy gulped and nodded. Memories of her father began to enter her mind. "Aren't you related to--" he stopped his sentence as he could see Cathy was about to nod her head to answer his question. "Sorry," he said. "I'm sure a lot of us are going through the same thing in one way or another lately," Cal said trying to empathize with Cathy.

The room grew silent as the two tried to clear their thoughts and move on with the conversation. "You know, actually, I received a letter from my old co-workers at Bell-Casse, inviting me over. They said they had some good news for me. I was planning on visiting them after I got done here," Cal said, trying to brighten up the mood a little. Cathy perked up because this was an incredible coincidence. She smiled as she replied, "That's right! I know exactly what it is. We've been in contact with a few local defense contractors and have requested that they give us some prototypes of new technologies they've been working on. We were wanting to deploy some of these new weapons for testing in NUNS to help us get a leg up on new technology. They're probably looking for someone to unload their gadgets to and figured you'd be a great candidate. I tell you what, wait right here. The vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs is the one working on this. I'm going to his office to see if I can help you and Bell-Casse work something out." Cathy got up from her desk with excitement and quickly left the room.

Cal was very surprised at this development. Those crazy guys over at the lab... they're always up to no good. Things just don't change with those fools. He begins to wonder if there's a supernatural force at work around him opening all kinds of doors of opportunity. Marie Benson... She's still a miracle worker, even after death.

After several minutes, Cathy returned with a file folder and placed it on her desk as she sat down. She flipped through two or three pages, and found what she was looking for. "Ah! I was right. There they are... Lieutenant Wagner, I'm going to authorize you to take part in this project," Cathy said as she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a sheet of official letterhead. "Here's an affidavit from the Joint Chief's office authorizing you access to the projects at Bell-Casse. I'm going to give you your wings and assign you to the Azusa. I'll let the squadron leader there brief you on their upcoming mission," She said as she frantically scribbled the orders on the paper, "If I recall correctly, you'll be embarking the day after tomorrow, so you will need to get your planetside affairs in order quickly."

"Here, take these forms to the personnel office on the next floor and they will give you all the instructions you'll need to make it to your ship on time," Cathy said as she handed him the papers with a huge smile on her face. Cal was completely starry-eyed at this development. He reached across the desk and shook Cathy's hand with both of his hands. "Thank you so much, Commander! I can't tell you how excited I am to be able to do this again!" Cal said as he swiped up all of his forms and neatly jogged them on the desk.

The two exchanged hearty goodbyes and Cal went on up to the personnel office to deliver his papers. He couldn't wait to get to Bell-Casse and deliver the incredible news. Cathy went back into her office to get ready for her next interview. She couldn't help but smile at the image of Cal's excited face. She thinks to herself, "This is why I love this job." Suddenly, she was reminded of Ozma because of Cal's story about losing his fiancee. "That oaf better make it back here alive," she mumbled to herself with a smile.


	3. Rebuilding Foundations

The midday sun shone mightily on the Quarter's flight deck. The heated air rising up from the runway surface was immediately met and swept away by the cool ocean breeze blowing through the bay. Inside the hangar, Alto Saotome is hard at work cataloguing and inventorying supplies for the fighter squadron. Suddenly, his phone begins to ring, startling him out of his focused state.

The last thing Alto needs is a distraction keeping him from completing his job. He clicks his tongue and picks up the phone. The phone showed an unfamiliar number with an NUNS prefix, but sensing it could be important, Alto answered. "Alto!" a pair of voices boomed through the phone. Alto pulled the phone back in a reaction to his eardrums being bombarded by the sound. "Sheryl? Ranka? You guys know I'm on duty. You can't call me while I'm working," he said in an accusing tone. His words did nothing to sway their spirits. "We're going to have dinner at the new Nyan Nyan in Frontier City. We want you to come and bring the gang with you. We just wanted to let you know, okay?" Ranka said. "Fine, fine... I'll be there. Now, I gotta let you go before I get in trouble," Alto whispered, while hunched over trying to conceal the phone from prying eyes.

Just as he hits the disconnect button, the hangar speakers come to life. "ALTO!" Ozma's voice echoed. "I need to see you in my office now!" he yelled. Alto glared in anger at the phone in his hand. "Dammit!" he exclaimed as he put the phone in his pocket and tucked his tablet under his arm. Alto stomped over to Ozma's office across from where he was standing in the hangar.

Alto closed the door behind him a little hard as he entered the office. "Sir?" he asked, wiping the angered look off of his face. "When are you going to have that requisition report for me? We're up against the wall here and we need to have it submitted to NUNS HQ early enough or we're going to be leaving this planet completely understocked," Ozma barked. "I'm almost done, sir. I just need about 30 more minutes."

Ozma's facial expression became more relaxed. "That's good to hear." He reclined back in his chair and continued, "By the way... I'm incredibly busy right now and I haven't had any time to get lunch. Since you seem to have a bit of extra time on your hands, why don't you be a good lad and go fetch me something to eat from the galley? I feel like... a huge hamburger and fries. I like to eat while reading requisition reports at the same time, so make sure I get both within 30 minutes." Alto can't believe stuff like this keeps happening to him today. "Yes, sir," he says begrudgingly. A dark stormcloud hovered over his head as he stomped out of the office and slammed the door behind him. Ozma began to reminisce on how much he loves his job.

Just outside of the ocean bay sits the monstrous Island-1 space colony ship. Work has begun to dismantle it and many of the features it has that were designed for space travel. The retractable dome and glass shield have disappeared, exposing the hundreds of buildings and factories inside to the elements of Aimo's weather patterns. Although few people actually LIVE on the ship, many industrial companies have made it their home. The skyscrapers on the ship are adorned with large corporation logos and are grouped together towards the center of the city. Towards the outskirts of Island-1, numerous buildings clustered together sit at the end of a single runway. A large hangar labeled "Bell-Casse Dynamics" towers over the other buildings, which share the same logo. The giant doors on the front of the hangar are partially open as workers walk in and out carrying various equipment. Inside, a single VF-171 sits with its landing gear nestled between chocks. The cockpit is open, but empty, and a couple of technicians are working on the fuselage from on top. The faint sound of music playing from a boombox can be heard in the background.

A scientist with a long lab coat is standing in front of the Valkyrie yelling something at the two technicians on top of the plane. "Guys, you told me you'd be done with this an hour ago. You're cutting into our testing time!" the scientist yelled. The technicians angrily responded, "...and you promised us these parts were going to be here yesterday! Just relax and quit getting so worked up and maybe you'll be able to focus on other things." "Like what??" the scientist shot back. Before the technicians could respond, a voice from the hangar door answered instead. "Like focusing on finally losing your virginity!" the figure said. The uniformed man emerged from the halo of afternoon sunlight creeping in from the just above the treeline. After straining their eyes to see who was interrupting their argument, they finally realized who it was. "Cal! You crazy bastard! You scared the hell out of me sneaking up on us like that," the scientist exclaimed as he walked over to shake Cal's hand. One of the technicians on top of the Valkyrie hopped down from the wing to meet Cal. The other stayed on top of the plane, waving.

The technician who came down from the plane shook Cal's hand. "It's so great to see you again. We were just talking about you the other day. We heard you were stuck in some shitty hospital bed somewhere, but our attempts at reaching you were unsuccessful. What brings you here to this hellhole?" he asked. Cal smiled and responded while pointing to the scientist, "This asshole here wrote me a letter practically _begging_ me to visit you guys. I decided to take time off my busy, busy day to appease his desires." David, the scientist, had to defend himself from Cal's statement, "Still a smack-talking, cocky-as-ever, tall-story-telling, son of a bitch... It's good to see you again, Cal."

David instructed the technician to let him know when they were done installing the parts onto the Valkyrie. Cal followed him to his office. The door was labeled "David Nguyen - Research and Development Department Chairman". Cal, surprised at David's position, had to remark on David's success after Cal left the company. "Department **chairman**? How many 'special' favors did you have to give the board of directors for that title?!" he jokingly asked while flipping quotation marks with his fingers. David just smiled and continued behind his desk to sit down. Cal marveled at David's huge office and intimidating desk. Sitting down, he complimented David's office, "Wow, look at this place. They sure do a good job making sure you don't go running off to one of their competitors."

David replied in a more serious tone, "I'm pretty sure I'll be spending the rest of my career here. We've had quite a bit of success despite losing Marie last year. However, a lot of our recent success is because of her. After her passing, we got into her research journals and found all kinds of incredible musings and ramblings she wrote about in her spare time. Some of the stuff she came up with was just beyond anything we had previously realized. I owe a lot of my success to her as well. I decided to take up her works and make them into reality and it's been a boon to our recent success."

David leaned forward on his desk. "How are _you_ doing, Cal? You've been on all of our minds since Marie's death and your subsequent departure from the company. We felt like we were missing a couple of whole limbs from our operations. She was an important person to us as well. We'll all miss her terribly." Cal could tell David was being very sincere and let him know how much he appreciated his kind words of sympathy.

"Well, as you know, I just got out of the hospital and I'm returning to service. I got your letter, but went to interview for my deployment orders before I came by. A little bird told me that you guys are coordinating with NUNS to get some of your new gadgets into space. Sounds like you guys need a pilot," Cal responded to David's initial question. David became confused, wondering how Cal already know about the surprise he was going to reveal on Cal's visit. "...yeah... How did you find out? I wanted to ask you if you were interested in becoming our guinea pig again," David said.

Cal reached into his overcoat and pulled out the affidavits from HQ. He smoothly placed them in front of David without saying a word; he wore gratifying smile on his face. David was blown away after reading the forms Cal had given him. "You've gotta be kidding me!" he exclaimed. He looked at Cal and shook his head in amazement. "I'm not gonna say it. You pilots are already arrogant enough..." he continued. David turned around and opened the minibar he had behind his chair. He pulled out a split of champagne and two glasses he had hiding nearby. "Here's that drink I owe you then," David said while pouring the glasses. "To our success!" he said as he touched his glass to Cal's. The two quickly downed the champagne and moved on to other business.

"Cal, I can't tell you how excited I am to be able to work with you again. The rest of the team is going to be shitting kittens when they hear about this. You need to go see everyone. Oh! Make sure you visit the administration building and say 'hello' to the members of the board working there," David suggested. Just then, David's intercom chirped and he picked up the phone.

After speaking the the individual on the other line, David put the phone back in its cradle. "Okay, I have to get back to our little experiment I've been waiting on. The techs are done working on the Valkyrie, so I need to get this project moving. Come back tomorrow so we can roll out the equipment we're gonna send with you on your deployment in a couple of days." David rushed towards the door and stopped before he left the room to say one last thing, "It's great to see you again, Cal. We're glad that you're doing okay now." Cal was impressed by David's newfound confidence. He's not the dorky, annoying kid he used to be anymore. A lot of things can change within the course of one year.

The sun slowly crept towards the horizon, signaling the coming end of the work day. Hard working individuals wrapped up their work and headed on home to reunite with loved ones and enjoy their evenings. Street and building lights begin to create the aura of light that glows around a bustling city at night.

The new Nyan Nyan restaurant, which just opened mere days ago, is adorned on the outside with balloons and banners celebrating their grand opening. This version of the restaurant is much larger than its predecessor on the Frontier colony ship. Up in one of the party rooms, a large group of friends gather for a night of fun and good food.

"Congratulations!" everyone yells, as they toast to a thoroughly embarrassed Luca Angelloni. Nanase embraces Luca from behind and fondles the new rank insignia on his jacket. "I'm so happy for you, Luca! I always knew your hard work would be rewarded. So, does the Lieutenant give permission for beautiful, young girls to kiss him?" she said playfully before planting one on his cheek. Luca remained speechless as he watched everyone enjoying themselves. A lot of crew members from Quarter had come, along with some stage hands and event coordinators from the concert site.

Klan Klang stood up against the wall by herself in the back of the room, watching the exchanges between everyone there. Sheryl and Ranka were busy force-feeding Alto his food, much to his dismay. The door to the room opened and Ozma and Cathy walked in, accompanied by cheery greetings from the people inside. Her sister, Nene, was enjoying herself and talking to a couple of guys who seemed to dote on her as she spoke. Even Brera had learned to mingle with people and was talking to some of the crew members from Quarter. Klan began to imagine Michael amongst the crowd enjoying himself as well. It was an image she could not bear to think about for more than 15 seconds.

Klan moved over to the balcony adjacent to the party room and leaned over the bannister to watch the traffic go by on the street in front of the restaurant. "Thinking about Michael?" a soft voice sounded from behind. Always the observant one, Bobby could read Klan's mind from across the room. He joined Klan, leaning over the bannister. Klan's eyes were glazed over in tears; she desperately tried not to let the tears leave her eyes.

Klan sniffled and regained her composure and faced Bobby. "Some days, I just don't know how I deal with it," she said. "It seems like all I have left is flying.... and even then there's not much going on in the last few months. Michael's ghost seems to haunt me wherever I go and whatever I do. I feel like I've become one-dimensional. I don't have anything to work towards or work **for**. I spent all my life enjoying the companionship of the people around me, be they Zentran or Human. I thought I could spend the rest of my life with one person, but that option was removed from my reach. As I reflect upon how different I and my race are from Humans, I see a rift forming between myself and everyone else. The only person who really meant a lot to me was Human and to me, he represented the gateway to unity between myself and the rest of Humanity," she said, turning back towards the bustling street.

"I feel myself becoming more and more distant to miclone life... as if I naturally desire to be with my own kin, instead of fostering a want to intermingle with Humans. I've honestly considered requesting to be transferred to an all-Zentraedi unit, but I know that my home and my life has always been with you guys. I've watched myself become more and more hostile towards everyone. Nobody seems to want to deal with my attitude, and they're always intimidated by it... especially when I'm at my normal size. I, too, find it difficult when I see other full-sized Zentraedi and I happen to be micloned at the time. I don't know how you guys deal with me..." Klan continued. She looked down at the ground in self-pity. Bobby would have none of this.

"What you need to do is quit feeling sorry for yourself! So your love for Michael went unrequited all these years... You need to get used to it not being there. It's entirely possible to love and not be loved in return. Everybody but Ozma knows that I love him and I'm perfectly okay with him not knowing it. I can only attempt to sympathize with the pain you went through to watch him die and have his last words be the admission of his true feelings towards you. That event has come and gone, but you still have not let that go," Bobby said, putting his hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to look into his eyes. Those eyes were full of sincerity that helped make Klan feel better.

"I can tell you from personal experience that there WILL be others in your life who will come along and fill that empty space in your heart. I've been through many hard breakups and have found it best to continue to forge ahead, knowing who I am is what has put me in this place. But if you don't start to get to know people, how will you ever know if they're the kind of person you've been searching for?" Bobby said.

Klan had to think before she responded to Bobby's question. "I've always been insecure about my micloned appearance, and rightly so. Even Michael once admitted that he was not able to touch me in 'that way' without feeling as if he was doing something wrong. I feel like it will be impossible for me to find someone if I remain micloned," she said. Bobby's face showed some frustration. He couldn't believe that someone who is as strong of a person as her is literally tearing herself down like that. "Hon, you need to understand that love is not about physical attraction. That's only a part of it. The real wonder of love is that you can see and understand what's on the inside. You need to give people a chance to get to know you as a person. When you meet someone who is interested in you only for who you are, your outward appearance won't matter to them. Find out who you are and define yourself to yourself. Only then can you overcome your insecurities and finally be an independent person," Bobby said as he embraced Klan. Klan initially didn't move, but she eventually reached up with her arms and hugged Bobby back in a gesture to acknowledge what he said to her.

Bobby went back into the room to find his drink and his seat while Klan remained on the balcony to reflect on her thoughts for a little while longer. Klan began to think to herself about how her attitude has been the very thing that's created that rift between her and her shipmates. Even her resistant behavior around Michael was evident to her now and she wondered if that was helping to push him away from her back then. She was going to need to do a lot more self-searching to find the answers within herself. Realizing that she was missing an opportunity to socialize with her friends, she did her best to put herself back together. She reentered the room, grabbed some food and a drink and sat down in the middle of the action, hoping to slide into a conversation somewhere. Bobby looked over to her from another table; they nodded to each other with a smile.

As the twilight settled over the city like a thick blanket, many of the residents are left alone with their thoughts. Time to dwell within oneself always seems to come around bedtime.

Loving couples such as Ozma and Cathy and Luca and Nanase, look to the future with uncertainty as they will be spending an extended period of time apart. Even the triangle relationship between Sheryl, Ranka, and Alto will be torn asunder soon. Each of them must find the strength from within to continue on with their lives without that special someone nearby.

Bobby spends his nights alone, and even admits to himself that he can't remain this way for forever. Despite his strong words to Klan tonight, he knows that they carry a tiny amount of dishonesty in them.

Kanaria will once again leave her husband and son behind to perform her duty. She finds solace in knowing that what she does as a soldier will help to ensure safety and a bright future for her child.

Klan will take Bobby's words into deep consideration while she tries to find the peace of mind that allows her to get some sleep. She must decide whether she will allow her pain to influence her attitude, or will she bury it deep within and find her old self again. It occurs to her that the person that she was before Michael's death is who she really is. This new, cold, unforgiving Klan is not helping her at all.

Somewhere in the NUNS barracks, Cal sits awake on his bed thinking about his deceased fiancee and about the incredible opportunity that is being laid before him to help him realize his aspirations. However, he understands that loneliness is a rude, unwanted guest that constantly gets in the way of his thoughts and efforts. Perhaps his new assignment will assuage the pain he's been dealing with the last year.


	4. Loose Ends

Bright and early in the morning, Cal stands outside of the front offices of Bell-Casse Dynamics. Today is officially his first day back on duty and he intends to get a lot done as early as possible so he can spend the rest of the day wrapping up his personal affairs before his ship's departure tomorrow morning. His fresh, new uniform reflects pure white and is neatly pressed and creased.

After checking his watch to verify his timely entrance, he proceeds forward to the office building, carrying his duffel bag over his shoulder. The lobby is pristine with numerous marble and stone sculptures crafted in an abstract form. In the center of the lobby is a glass case full of Valkyrie models and various awards and certificates from both the NUNS and private sector organizations fully on display for anyone to see. Cal approaches the front desk and introduces himself to the receptionist. He receives his visitor's badge and is directed to the hangar area.

Inside the hangar, the VF-171 is patiently waiting for its flight time. Near the offices, David is at the coffee machine preparing his morning caffeine shot. Cal approaches David to start his orientation. After the initial greeting, they both go into a meeting room next to David's office. There are already a couple of other scientists and technicians waiting for the presentation to begin. Once introductions are finished, the meeting begins.

David positions himself in front of the large projection screen located at one end of the huge meeting table. "Okay, first I'd like to start out by saying that we're all excited to have you working with us again, Cal. Even though you don't work **for** us, having you as a part of these projects is the next best thing... especially considering the source that we have used for the majority of these systems," David said, holding a pointing stick with both of his hands. The screen followed David's presentation to give visual aids to his lecture. "We'll go ahead and cover the details of the systems we're going to implement onto your Valkyrie during your deployment. Since the mainstay of the NUNS fleet is the VF-171 Nightmare Plus EX, we have already fitted the VF-171 in the hangar with a similar setup. We don't have the EX version, which enables use of the EX-gear," David said.

The projection screen changed to show the first system being outlined in David's lecture. "Here at Bell-Casse, we've spent a lot of our time focusing on countermeasures designed to confuse and blind enemy ships. These projects are the brainchild of Marie Benson, our former compatriot. Using the research diaries she left behind, which are proprietary property of the company, we were able to design and develop these countermeasures into tangible systems. Our first item on the list is the Fold-magnetic Chaff. Standard chaff is designed to act as additional targets for incoming missiles to lock onto, thereby making them less likely to follow the targeted ship. We've developed chaff that is able to emit opposing fold waves, thereby temporarily masking close-range sensors and effectively causing target acquisition loss by the attacking craft. It is deployed by standard systems and is easily retrofitted into any available launcher on NUNS craft," David continued.

The screen changed again to cover the next item. "This is the Flashbang. Obviously modeled after the grenade of the same name, it's designed to incapacitate pilots visually and physically. Marie's notes described in detail on how to modify the effects to become useful against targets in a space vacuum and how to pack it into a small disposable cartridge that is simply ejected from it's moorings on the Valkyrie. In order to reduce the chances of an enemy pilot visually spotting it while it travels towards the pilot, we removed any kind of standard propulsion and allowed it to push itself away from the hull of the bird by magnetic acceleration. Only the pilots with the sharpest eyes and fastest reflexes will be able to avoid it. Once it comes within effective range or reaches the end of the fuse time, the grenade detonates, emitting intense light and also electromagnetic pulses designed to disrupt onboard systems and will actually cause a loud popping sound in standard communications devices. The pilot will be overwhelmed visually and audibly via the sound in their headgear from the magnesium flare and EMP. Your flight systems can be immunized to the EMP effects, as long as the grenade's frequency stays in sync with the protection we put in place on the computers. You'll still have to deal with the visual effects, though," David continued.

Cal was at his seat frantically scribbling notes down on his notepad. The Bell-Casse employees watching him were pleased to see that they finally had a pilot who was taking this seriously enough to actually pay attention. The Cal they knew from a year ago was too proud and arrogant to take things seriously enough. Even the pilot they had after Cal initially left was no different.

David moved on to his next item, "The final system we will introduce you to in detail today is a bit of trickery and is difficult to employ in most scenarios. This is a holographic projector similar to those that we use in civilian and military life. This baby is designed to mimic your image and display it with the highest resolution possible, in order to maintain the illusion against even the sharpest pilot vision and instincts. The device also emits electromagnetic and fold-magnetic waves similar to a real Valkyrie. Both the pilot and his or her flight systems will be temporarily fooled into thinking that it's a real enemy target. What makes it hard to employ is that you cannot be seen deploying it, nor can it actually move or fire. In a combat scenario, distancing yourself from the projector will be seemingly impossible without being detected by radar."

Cal raised his hand to ask a question. "Yes, Cal?" David asked. "I can only see it being used either before a battle starts, or if there are numerous sub-planetary bodies in the combat area. I think it would work if you could somehow hide behind an asteroid or large piece of debris, deploy it, then boost yourself away from it. Once the boost has been fired, you could turn off your flight systems to help avoid detection. Since most asteroids have metals in them, it would fool ship sensors to a degree and all you'd have to do is avoid visual detection. I think this could be done in a dense asteroid field or amongst battleship wreckage. That's about the limit of its service," Cal said.

David nodded his head in agreement. "Sounds like it's something that you'd only put in your loadout on a per-scenario basis and nothing more. The device is rather large, so it will have to be attached to your Valkyrie via one of the hardpoints under the wing. That means that's one less missile pack or bomb that you will not be able to carry," he said.

David progressed his projector to the next set of images. "We also have developed two RVF-specific defensive abilities that make use of the increased capabilities of the large radome that it carries. We created installable program modules and radome modifications to allow a greater range of uses. One is the ability to detect and mimic IFF signals to obscure your identity as an enemy. This system isn't quite reliable, as it requires a bit of encryption cracking to be done in the cockpit. What we do is give the computer the ability to analyze and decode the encryption, then sew it back together and transmit the signal using the same encryption. Usually, this takes a bit of time, unless you happen to have the encryption key in your hand," David said with a chuckle. Cal was already trying to figure out how he can get around the impediments of the need to encrypt.

"...and our last combat-ready system is a temporary fold-stealthing. The radome can be modified to emit an opposing fold wave and electromagnetic signature tailored to neutralize them on both accounts. However, the erratic and varying nature of those signatures emitting from your bird during combat will reduce its effectiveness to a short time. We're thinking in the range of 2-3 seconds. We're trying to overcome this limitation, but it looks like it would mean deactivating your engines and subsequently, your energy conversion armor. It would make you extremely vulnerable, due to your inability to evade incoming fire and take a couple of hits without it destroying your ship entirely," David said as he turned off the projector and put his pointer down.

"We'll give you the chance to test out the ordnance systems for the new chaff, flashbangs, and how to deploy the hologram, Cal," David said. Cal replied with a question, "What happened to the YF-24?" A couple of the other meeting attendees snickered. David smiled and answered, "The last pilot we had smashed it to pieces. Let's just say he's not working here anymore, nor do I think he's got permission to fly even a crop duster in one of the agricultural areas. We made sure of that." One of the scientists chimed in, "He was probably the worst pilot ever. We hired him as a favor to one of our customers. We won't be doing anyone any favors like that anymore."

The group left the meeting room and headed out to the hangar. After changing into his flightsuit, Cal spent a moment introducing himself to the VF-171. Everyone in the hangar watched as the traditional pilot ritual was performed. Cal caressed the fuselage and began talking to the machine, asking for a smooth flight.

After so many months of being grounded, Cal climbed into the open cockpit and strapped himself into the seat. The engines firing up were sweet music to Cal's ears. He could feel the hum of the powerplants through his seat. The tug vehicle linked its towbar to the front landing gear of the Valkyrie and pushed it out of the hangar and straightened out on the runway.

Cal did a thorough flight checklist, as each vertical and horizontal stabilizer and wing flaps on the plane oscillated. After a quick check-in with the regional airspace control, Cal receives clearance to take off. He slowly grips the throttle and side-stick, remembering how it feels to be at the controls of one of these majestic birds. Receiving the "OK" signal from the ground crew, he creeps the throttle forward until liftoff velocity is achieved. He leaves the ground and clears the treeline at the end of the runway with ease. Cal feels the inertial forces thrusting him into his seat , tilts the side-stick, and peels away from his straight flight path. Finally, he feels free again as all of his worries and problems are left on the ground.

Nearby in the ocean bay, the Quarter is making its last preparations before tomorrow's launch. A container ship is docked alongside the Quarter, unloading the parts and ships that were ordered off of Alto's requisitions report. Alto is on the flight deck checking in all of the containers while technicians piloting Work Destroids and tugs move the supplies and Valkyries inside for storage.

Up on the bridge, Bobby is taking some time to get to know his new work partner. "Have you gotten used to the way things work on this ship?" he asked Jennifer. She hadn't quite gotten comfortable yet, but she had to at least let Bobby know that she was making progress. "Oh, yes! I can tell I'm going to like serving on this ship with you all," she replied.

Bobby searched for something to talk about. "So, are you leaving anyone behind here on Aimo?" he asked. Jennifer looked down and smiled. "Fortunately, all of my family survived this far. They've already made a life in Frontier City. I'm the oldest of 3; I have two younger brothers who are still in school. Everyone is so proud of me for choosing to serve in the NUNS and I hope to not disappoint them," she replied. "Do you serve to protect them, then?" Bobby asked. "Yes, and I serve to protect this colony and what it stands for. To honor the sacrifices of the generations before me, and to protect the future of the generations that will come after me," Jennifer said.

Bobby smiled at the thoughtful answer. He prefers to have people working with him who are not so easily coerced into just becoming pitiless weapons of war. "I, too, serve for the very same reasons," he said. "So do all of those who serve on this ship. We have accepted that we will submit ourselves to the needs of the colony and we will die to protect it and everyone we care about so that they may live on," Bobby continued.

Jennifer finds one more reason to call her new assignment her "home". "All that's left for me to do, then, is to learn to embrace my shipmates as my own family while I am away from my real one. I'm glad to be able to serve with this crew," she said. The two look at each other with a smile and turn to their stations to continue working. Captain Wilder takes a mental note of their conversation as he takes a sip of his hot tea.

Throughout the halls of the Quarter, crew members and pilots are all taking time to reflect on their mission and what it means to their ultimate aspirations. Even Klan, who has erroneously managed to convince herself that she has nothing left to fight for, has begun to reassess herself so she can continue to live her life as an independent person. Every person desires to be with someone else; someone to call them their "love", but if they haven't found it yet, they have to learn to operate normally as an individual. There are different levels of caring for others, not just true love. You can love and not be loved in return, and still be okay with it. Klan has to find within her the things that really matter to her. She slowly realizes that what she has left are the people who are closest to her in battle, and those who cheer her on from behind the lines.

Bobby's advice has bored a hole through her conscience and she must fill that hole with the truth. The truth that eventually, someone else will come by to draw her attention. That someone who she will come to call her true "love" and she must be prepared to deal with it when it comes. She can no longer afford to keep pushing people away and wallow in her self-pity alone. It may come down to her last breath before she plunges below the water line when that helping hand grabs a hold and lifts her back out of the quagmire.

Alto's confusing, albeit exciting relationships with Sheryl and Ranka give him **two big **reasons to continue serving as a protector. Resolution of his love triangle is definitely not on the high priority list, since the two of them seem to rather enjoy the competition they have between each other. This helps him justify to himself the rather glaring fact that he's not ready to commit to any single relationship. As long as he stays alive, they'll have plenty of time to work it out naturally.

Luca's love for Nanase tries desperately to emerge fully from its shell. His shy and reserved nature sometimes keeps him from truly being able to both understand and reveal his feelings to Nanase. Such is the nature of a young and inexperienced couple. They, too, have a lot left to learn about how to love each other. At least they both understand that fact and are willing to keep on doing the best they can with what they have.

The only real and understood love is that between Ozma and Cathy. They've both been around the block a few times. They've been through multiple relationships and though they carry several emotional scars, it starts to become a badge of honor to have them. More entries on their "love resume's" to indicate the level of experience they have. Both of them know exactly what level their partner is on and can play that game to its fullest. Even though they aren't aware of it, the magnitude of success of their relationship rubs off on all of the people around them, **especially** the crew of the Quarter.

Some hours later, a love of a different kind manifests itself in the forms of one's memories and thoughts. Cal is standing in the middle of the cemetery amongst hundreds of headstones all lined neatly in rows and columns. On top of the one he stares at, a bouquet of roses and two rings rest in the sun. "Well, Marie, it really looks like you are doing your best to protect me and to help me fulfill my dreams as my guardian angel. You don't know how convinced I am that you're still with me in some form. It is you who brought me from the brink of death several months ago, to standing in the doorway of opportunity right now. You continue to protect me beyond your death through your undiscovered work, and I will become the instrument with which you finally fill your destiny posthumously. Only you would make things happen this way; to put me back in the pilot's seat as the one who continues your work at Bell-Casse. I wonder if you will make good on your dying wishes for me to find another to call my own. I now know how much you want me to continue to live and I will not give up on your wishes. I only miss being able to hold you, to touch you, kiss you, and tell you how much I love you and I miss you," Cal said with a quivering voice.

Cal picked up the two rings and pushed a string through them. He then tied the string to his neck, leaving the rings free to rest together against his chest. Cal picked up the rings together and gently pressed them to his lips as he allowed a few tears to leave his eyes. After staying knelt for a few moments in quietness, he stood up and gently placed the bouquet on the ground where his loving fiancee rested a few feet below. Cal imagined a peaceful, calm Marie lying on the ground, holding the roses at her chest. Following another minute of reflection, he picked up his duffel bag and started walking away. He took a deep breath and looked to the sky as he continued to the cemetery gates.

He wasn't the only person paying respects to their lost loved ones, however. Many of the crew of the Quarter were gathered in a crude semicircle around Michael Blanc's grave. A micloned Klan was knelt in front of his grave with a handful of carnations tightly clenched in her lap. A trail of tears extended from the corner of her eyes to the bottom of her chin. Klan began to think to herself how Michael would have wanted her to be like in his absence. This cold, calculating, heartless attitude of hers would no longer push people away. She promises to Michael that she will live on and do her best to become a happier person.

Jennifer was with them and made it a point to learn what it might be like to lose a loved one. She'd been one of the lucky ones and hadn't had to experience this before. Unfortunately, she was also not able to handle the sight of someone experiencing the pain of loss. It became glaringly clear that she must not ever allow this to happen to her. It means that she will remain a vigilant protector of the innocent and of her newfound friends in the Quarter crew. Just as Klan places the flowers on the grave, Jennifer notices a distant uniformed figure through her cloudy eyes walking towards the exit of the cemetery. Yet another pour soul dealing with the pain of loss. She curiously wonders if there's anything she can do.

After the crew of the Quarter leaves the cemetery, Jennifer notices that the same figure she saw earlier was leaning forward against the railing to the fountain flowing outside the cemetery. She could see he was in deep thought, but she had to investigate the source of this man's need for concentration. She joined him and leaned against the railing just like him. Searching for something thoughtful to say without revealing her true intentions, she finally spoke what came to mind.

"There's something eerily magical about this place. It has the power to put one's thoughts and hopes and dreams into perspective, doesn't it?" she asked. Cal slowly glances over to Jennifer as if to ask her what the hell she wants with him. He turns back to the fountain and stares at the flowing water a moment before answering. "Death isn't the end. I'm convinced of it now. What's hard for people to comprehend is the things that they cannot see or touch," Cal answered. Jennifer was shocked to hear such an insightful answer from someone who is obviously grieving the loss of a loved one. She thought she understood from watching Klan's emotions earlier that people saw death as the final destination; there's no bridging the gap between life and death. This brought a smile to her face.

"So, you don't feel alone?" Jennifer asked. Cal shook his head and smiled, "Yes, and no. There's definitely a large void that death leaves behind. It tries and tries to suck everything in around it and turn it into void as well... but the Strong feel that pull and tear away from it before it consumes them. I once thought I wasn't strong enough, but something helped me from being consumed completely. Now I know that it's possible to fill that void with the memories of that person and continue to do so until those memories congeal into an ethereal form to be my companion. I can then live in the light, thanks to the impact she's had on my life... the memories that she gave me."

Jennifer was touched by his thoughtful analogy. "I never thought it could be stated so clearly. She must have been an incredible woman for her to continue to affect you even after her death," she said as she noticed the two rings hanging on Cal's necklace. She reached her hand out to Cal to shake his. "I'm Jennifer. Jennifer Wentz," she said. Cal looked at her hand for a moment and casually grabbed her hand. "Calvin Wagner. You can just call me Cal," he replied. "Well, Cal, I am very pleased to have met you. You've already made an impression on me," she said with a laugh. Cal could only smile to humor her uncomfortableness.

Jennifer then got an idea. An idea so crazy that she couldn't help but blurt it out. "Are you going to the concert in a little bit?" she asked. Cal raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Yeah, I got an invitation. I was debating on whether or not I wanted to go. I'm not much of a concert-goer, especially going by myself," he said. He instantly realized he just opened himself up for an invitation to go with her. "Why don't you and I go together, then? I'm sure you could use the company and I know I would enjoy getting to know you a bit," Jennifer said nervously. Cal immediately began to wonder if this was a reply to his question to his deceased fiancee at her grave earlier. Unwilling to let this chance go by and disgrace Marie's will, he accepted with a nod.

Just then, Bobby came out of nowhere to see what all the fuss was about. "Jen? Who's your new friend?" Bobby asked. Jennifer leaped off of the railing in surprise. "Oh! Um, Bobby! This is Cal," she replied. Bobby reached out to shake Cal's hand. Cal, not wanting to be rude, shook hands with Bobby and nodded. "We were just talking about going to the concert together for fun," she said. Cal didn't want to spend time getting to know another person, so he decided to get his things together and move on to the next item on his agenda before the concert.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a few things to do before the concert. Here you go, Jennifer," he said as he pulled out his PDA, tapped it with a stylus, and flicked it towards Jennifer's phone on her hip. Jennifer's phone reacted with the reception of Cal's contact information through the "toss". He then bid the two goodbye and continued walking towards the train station down the road.

Once Cal was a "safe" distance away, Bobby had to tell Jennifer his thoughts. "Oh, look at you go! Girl, you found yourself a cute one too!" he said, hopping in front of her with his hands on her shoulders. Jennifer was embarrassed, but had to respond in kind. "You were checking him out too, don't deny it," she said with a chuckle. Bobby had to play it cool or he was going to lose control of the conversation. "Oh, he's too young for me... but one can wish, can he?" Bobby said with a slight blush. The two continued down the road to rejoin the Quarter crew as they continued to swoon over the recent events that transpired there.

The Coral star was beginning to reach for the edge of the horizon to end its journey over the Aimo sky. The orange hue of the setting sun gave warning to the residents that the dark night sky was imminent.

Over at the NUNS airfield, the big event was getting ready to unfold. Countless NUNS soldiers began to congregate towards the huge stage built across some of the runways on the base. Following the meeting instructions that Jennifer gave him, Cal casually searches for his concert mate. He spots her near one of the entrances, patiently waiting alone.

"Jen!" he calls out to her. She hears her name and scans the incoming crowd to identify the source. After locking her eyes onto Cal amongst the many uniformed soldiers, she waves in response and runs up to him to hug him. Cal was a bit surprised at her zeal, but took it all in stride. Looks like she was far more excited about this little get-together than he was. "Were my instructions easy to follow?" she asked. Cal nodded in response. He offered her his arm, to which she accepted, and they strolled into the enormous coliseum.

Warmup music was playing in the concert area while the attendees worked their way towards their seats. Various souvenir vendors strolled up and down the stairs barking out their goods and prices. There were very many cosplay fans, dressed up in Ranka's and Sheryl's most popular performance outfits. The rest of the fans were dressed in their standard uniforms and the range of ranks abounded.

After looking at some concessions together, Jen and Cal found their seats and made themselves comfortable while they waited for the festivities to begin. Jen started out the conversation, "Are you a fan of Ranka and Sheryl?" Cal smiled and shook his head, "Not really, but I do listen to their music from time to time. I'm more of a rock and roll kind of guy." "Oh! Then you must like Fire Bomber!" Jen said confidently. Again, Cal shook his head, "They're alright too, but not quite my cup of tea. You've probably never heard of the bands I like, but let's just say they'll melt your face if you ever heard them." Cal chuckled as Jen gave him a confusing look.

Jen finally noticed the wings on Cal's uniform. "So, you're a pilot?" she asked, "Where are you posted?" Cal told her about his history in NUNS and about his most recent events within NUNS. Jen was extremely happy to hear about his turnaround. Cal made it a point to leave out his previous relationship with Marie. He's been told my numerous female friends that you never bring up past relationships with women around your dates and girlfriends. It's an unwritten law!

"I was recently reassigned to the Macross Quarter. I'm so excited to be working with such a great group of officers there," Jen proudly exclaimed. "We are also shipping out tomorrow. Maybe we'll be working closely with the Azusa and your VF squadron," she said. "I don't know where we'll be going. They haven't told me since I haven't quite joined the crew yet. I'll be taking a transport to the ship, which is already in orbit, tomorrow morning. Odds are that we'll be on the other side of the system as the Quarter," Cal said, trying to remain realistic.

Jen was a bit bummed at the reality of Cal's statement, but chose to remain optimistic. "So, what you're saying is that we might not see each other again after tonight, huh?" she said with a flirtatious wink. Cal, not sure about what she meant by that, could only smile and nod. What's going through her mind right now?

Just then, the in-house lights dimmed. The concert began with a long crescendo leading up to an explosive entrance of the two songstresses. They both performed a powerful duet they wrote specifically for the concert. As expected, the crowd was thrilled at the stunning performance on stage and erupted in a deafening cheer as the song came to an end. The music died down and two powerful spotlights illuminated the pair as they wanted to welcome their fans.

Sheryl started out with her words, "Thank you all for joining us on this historic night! We can't properly express how thrilled we are to be here to play this concert in YOUR honor!" Ranka continued, "That's right! As you all know, we wanted to thank each and every one of you NUNS officers and soldiers for the immeasurable sacrifices you all have made to make all of this come true!" The crowd cheered in response.

After the cheers died down, Ranka continued, "Sheryl and I wanted to make sure we had this concert before you all left Aimo to serve as the vigilant protectors of our new colony. We also want to give a huge thanks to our stage crew and supporting staff for making this possible!" The crowd aimed their cheers at the hard-working crew.

Sheryl took over the monologue, "All of us have friends and family who serve the NUNS and we all want you to know how much we support you. We will all be thinking about you and sending our prayers your way while you are serving your duty out amongst the planets and stars. We'd like to dedicate this concert to the good people of the NUNS; especially this next song!"

Sheryl's words quickly segued into the next song. Ranka's and Sheryl's costumes changed into NUNS uniforms using the holographic projectors on the stage. Images of VF's and capital ships played on the enormous screen behind them while they sang. Various pictures of NUNS soldiers performing their duty were also intertwined in the video on screen. The crowd was cheering louder than before for this song, since it was especially for them. Just as the song was about to end, a formation of five Valkyries with smoke trails zoomed overhead right on queue. After passing over the stage, they climbed the air and spotlights illuminated their smoke trails in the sky. Reaching a predetermined altitude, they broke formation into a star figure. Cheers abounded as the NUNS flexed its military might in a stunning display of piloting precision. The song ended just as the fighters broke their formation in the air.

Even Cal was very impressed by the performance as he started to cheer and clap right along with the rest of the crowd. Jen was ecstatic beyond belief. She leaned over and embraced Cal with one arm around him and the other in the air as she reached for the sky. Cal was too distracted to even think about whether or not he's comfortable with Jen holding him so close. All of his reservations and doubts left him the moment the concert started.

Sheryl and Ranka had to wait for the crowd's cheers to die down so they could be heard again. To them, it was such a great feeling to bring that much happiness and entertainment to the people they respected so much. They held each other side by side as they pointed at the crowd with their mics in hand.

The concert continued for another hour and a half and did not disappoint. Sheryl and Ranka took turns singing their own singles, electrifying the crowd with every song. As the twilight consumed the night sky, the concert was beginning to wind down to its final number. Sheryl once again took to the stage as she wanted to give her final parting words before their last song.

"My goodness, what an incredible night this has been. Ranka and I can literally feel the excitement from you all. We just wanted to make this last number a duet between us and dedicate it to the coexistence of the Human and Zentran races. I don't think enough is said about the profound impact that we have had on each other and that we think it's an amazing thing to be able to walk together as friends and family," Sheryl said with zeal. Ranka stepped forward to say her part.

"Some of you may or may not know that I am part Zentran. I am proud to have lineage of both races. I want us to celebrate the union of our two races because it's made us who we are today. Because of our fight to survive, we understood what each race meant to the other. Because of this understanding, we were able to achieve peace and enter a new era of history as we reached for the stars to find new planets to colonize. Our colony is a direct result of that undertaking and we all agree that it would not have been possible if things were different. I want to say a huge 'Thank you!' to our predecessors, Humans, Zentraedi, and the NUNS! We love you all!" Ranka cheered as the music began to play an all-too-familiar tune.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause as the duo began to sing "Ai, Oboete Imasuka" with images of the end of the Space War and subsequent colony ships traveling through space in search of a new home. The ancient love song sparked many couples to embrace each other as they sang along, including Jen and Cal. Elsewhere in the crowd, Ozma and Cathy were holding each other tightly. Even Luca and Nanase were enjoying the song backstage as they looked on through the curtains.

Back in the Quarter's Galley, Klan and Nene watched the concert from the television set. Although neither had someone to hold, they understood the profoundness of Sheryl's and Ranka's words of racial unity. Even though they were pureblood Zentraedi, they still looked to their miclone friends as equals and held them in high regard. However, They knew that there will always be groups of both Humans and Zentrans who hold a contempt towards each other. Unfortunately, this is one thing that the two races shared with each other... the inability to cope with racial unity. This one commonality is quite ironic.

As the concert came to a close, Ranka and Sheryl gave their final goodbyes to the soldiers. Their message of support and appreciation was heard loud and clear by the NUNS personnel. Cheers and chanting were echoed by all of the people attending the concert as the pair of songstresses waved goodbye and left the stage. The house lights went up and everyone started to quietly and calmly head towards the exits. Cal and Jen slowly followed the crowd out of the amphitheater, noticeably holding each other closer.

"So, did you have a great time?" Jen asked as she held tightly onto Cal's arm. Cal nodded, "A very impressive show. I especially liked the message that they were trying to get across. It's good to know that we will have people like them supporting our cause. War is not an easy thing for the people to continue to support. Even though we're not in a war right now, we'll be far away from home and from the people we care about." Judging from Cal's statement, Jen could tell he was a thinker. Looking beyond the obvious musical entertainment, he saw the underlying tones behind their overall message.

Just as Jen was starting to work up the courage to ask a more personal question, her phone chimed, indicating there was a text message for her. She picked up the phone, read the message, and turned to Cal to ask him a question. "Oh! Some friends of mine want to meet up outside. Do you want to meet them?" she asked. Cal, knowing that he had no choice in the matter anyways, agreed to go. As soon as they got outside of the hallways to the exterior of the complex, Jen began to walk hurriedly, pulling Cal along by his arm.

As they approached the group of friends, Jen let go of Cal and ran to hug them all. Bobby, Mena, Lam, and Monica were all huddled around Jen as Cal looked on with an inquisitive expression on his face. He walked up and shook Bobby's hand, having met him once before and greeted the other ladies in the group. Jen introduced Cal to the rest of the bridge crew whom he had not met yet, and they all started to slowly make their way towards the transportation depot located just outside the runway grounds.

Cal really didn't have much to say to the group, seeing as how he had just met most of them, but he tried to at least pay attention to whatever it was that they were all talking about. He noticed Bobby's propensity to be able to talk to the women about fashion and cute guys. He remarked to himself how it's kind of funny how women always desire to have at least one gay guy as their best friend.

As they approached the transportation depot, numerous buses were arriving and departing simultaneously in a seemingly coordinated ballet of parking positions. "So, are you two lovebirds going to spend some more time together?" Monica asked Jen with a wink and a nudge. Jen was obviously embarrassed by the question, but that was the point of asking in the first place. Jen looked at Cal for a moment and could already tell he wasn't quite ready to call it a night yet. "Yeah, we'll go find somewhere to hang out before going home, I suppose," she said.

The group said their goodbyes to each other and headed towards different buses. Cal had no idea where Jen was taking him, but pretended to know what he was doing so he could present that facade of confidence. Who knows what this woman has on her mind... She is quite the flirtatious one. Cal smiled in anticipation of what the rest of the night might bring.

Bobby, Mena, Lam, and Monica all huddled together on the bus to gossip about the concert, but most importantly to them, Cal and Jen. Giggling came from most, if not all, of them with each statement. "How cute were they together?!?" Mena asked. "You could see it in her eyes. She's got big things planned for the rest of the night. I almost feel sorry for that guy, no matter how cute he is," Monica chimed in. Bobby was in total agreement, "She was quick to ask him out when I saw them hanging out outside the cemetery earlier today. Let's see if she actually makes it to her quarters tonight, huh?" The group continued their scheming and gossiping as the bus drove them back to their destinations.

Back at the concert venue, the backstage party was going on. Stage crew, technicians, the performers, and friends were hanging out, drinking, and having a good time in celebration of their recent event. Even Ozma and Cathy had dropped in for a moment before going home. Ozma was having a little bit of interaction time with his dear Ranka.

"I'm so proud of you for standing up and saying those things you did on stage tonight. It tells me how much of an impression I've made on you while you were growing up. I know you don't like me out there risking my life, but I now know you understand what it means to be a soldier," Ozma said, while playfully rubbing Ranka's head.

Ranka laughed nervously while Ozma doted on her a bit. "Thanks, Brother. I hope that you'll think about us while you're out there on duty," she said. Cathy watched the exchange as she tried to prepare herself for the possibility that she might one day become something more than just an acquaintance to Ranka. She debates within herself on whether or not she'll have to be a motherly figure or a big sister figure to her if that day ever comes. She knows one thing is for sure, though.. It's that she will have to rely on Ranka for company and support when she's feeling lonely without Ozma being nearby. Both of them will have a large part of their lives missing while the Quarter is out serving its duty.

The same thoughts are going through Nanase's head as she tries to enjoy some of her last moments with Luca before he leaves. His new rank and position will most assuredly have him distracted from his thoughts of her while he is performing his duty. However, she knows that his thoughts and dreams will be focused on her memory when he is resting from his work. Luca is unsure of how to handle his upcoming separation from Nanase. Each time he looks at her and talks to her is one less time he will have before he leaves her behind. The couple tries hard to maintain a semblance of confidence and cheerfulness as they enjoy the celebration backstage.

Alto stands alone with a drink in his hand, leaning against some stage props nearby. His thoughts momentarily float towards his father. He still has not reconciled with his father, and he knows that time is running out before it may be too late to do so. He is also figuring out how to mentally prepare himself for his separation from Ranka and Sheryl. He attempts to define his relationship with them, but his independent and rebellious nature is fighting with his desire to emotionally attach himself to them in some way. One part of him wants to be just friends, but another desires that extra level of attention. The latter requires him to make a choice amongst the pair, but he fears that a choice of one would devastate the other. Maybe it's just best to let things be and it'll work itself out naturally.

"I thought I might find you here," a voice spoke out from behind him. Sheryl approached Alto with a look of seriousness on her face. "What are you thinking about?" she asked. Alto frantically searched his mind to cover up the truth about his thoughts. "Just thinking about how much I am going to miss being here on Aimo," was all he could come up with. He dared not mention Sheryl or Ranka specifically or he would be ripped to shreds by Sheryl's mocking and fawning. He's learned that any display of care or affection towards her would be reciprocated in the form of some kind of mind game.

Sheryl had already planned out her assault before he could finish his sentence. She came up behind him and embraced his torso underneath his arms. A sulking voice emitted sound waves from her mouth, "All you had to say was 'I am going to miss you, Sheryl!'" A sly grin found its way onto her face, out of Alto's sight. She waited for his response with baited breath, already planning out her next move.

Alto took a sip from his drink to buy himself extra time to think about his next response. "All _you_ had to say was 'I'm going to miss you, Alto!'" he said, knowing he just threw a serious curveball at her, low and away. Sheryl was surprised at his response. She hadn't planned on him saying that! She let Alto go and stood back, brushing her hair behind one of her ears while she thought of what to say next. Alto knew from this hesitation that she knew she was found out. The sly grin left Sheryl's face and jumped to Alto's, who was still turned away from Sheryl.

"Alto, I..." Sheryl struggled to speak what she wanted to say. Alto turned around and looked at her sternly. "You really need to learn to say what you mean, Sheryl. All these word games and head games do you no good when you really want to get serious about things. Just be honest to yourself and to those you care about. They'll appreciate it," Alto said, knowing he was referring to himself in his statement. "I'm gonna call it a night. Tomorrow's a huge day, of course, and I need to get my rest," Alto said as he finished his drink. He hugged Sheryl and went back to the party to say his "goodnight"s to Ranka and his other friends. Sheryl watched him walk away through her glazed eyes. She finally convinces herself that she is going to really miss him.

Sheryl followed Alto into the room and watched him calmly and easily talk to Ranka for a moment before saying goodnight to her and hugging her. Ranka was as receptive as she has always been, playing off his endearments as if they were the norm. Sheryl thought to herself how much she wishes that Alto would be that way with her, but she realizes that her way of playing off her feelings towards Alto is stopping the two from really bonding together in the way that she truly desires deep inside. Maybe she's not as mature as Ranka is in this department, despite being her senior by almost 2 years.

In another part of the airbase, Jen and Cal look over the ocean from a remote vantage point. "I'm going to miss being able to look upon the things that we take for granted; like this right here," Jen said pointing out the panoramic view with a sweep of her hand. Cal admired the beauty of the bay. Lights illuminated the shoreline in an all-encompassing arc. Island-1, Battle Frontier, and Macross Quarter shone in their magnificence as they remained moored near the harbor. Cal's thoughts drifted off towards Marie and how much she would have enjoyed this view.

Before Cal could get too lost in his thoughts, Jen broke the silence once again. "Cal," she said tugging his arm and squeezing it closely to her body, "I know that we probably won't see each other again for a very long time, if at all. I can tell you've been through a lot and its made you the person you are now, but you stand at an important point in the road for you. I just want you to know that I think you're going to make something important out of yourself and I am glad to have spent this time with you, even if it's for half a day." Cal continued to look out on the bay, but was showing Jen that her words were being considered in his mind.

He turned to Jen and looked into her eyes as if to say "thanks" without uttering a word. "I am glad you asked me to spend the evening with you. It's really helped me gain some footing back into the real world. It's difficult to re-acclimate myself to the world after I've spent so much time cooped up in a hospital room. I think it will be easier for me to move forward now," Cal said.

Jen's eyes gleamed with excitement at Cal's words of gratitude. Her disposition turned into that of a mischievous kitten. "Well..." she said, "if you think it's okay, I know of a place we can go to be more 'alone', if you know what I mean." Cal was a bit shocked by her statement, but something inside of him knew this was coming based on her behavior around him. She's quite the aggressive one, but that's not a bad thing at all. "Uh..." Cal stammered.

Before he could say anything, Jen covered his mouth. "I understand if you don't feel comfortable with it, I can only imagine what it feels like to be in your position. I just want you to know that there's no strings attached; you belong to no one, regardless of what happens. It's just that it may be a long time before either of us have an such an opportunity," she said with a caring tone. Cal took a minute to think about her proposal.

He began to wonder if this will be his first step towards finding his happiness again, just as Marie wished him to do before her death. He must consider the ramifications of this decision because he doesn't want to dishonor his former lover's memory, but if he goes ahead with Jen's proposal, he has to consider the complications it may bring in the future if they do meet again. He barely knows Jen; how does he know she's not gonna go back on her word?

Cal makes up his mind, but only if his question is answered correctly. "We probably won't see each other again, and this may be our last chance in a long time to be intimate with someone else, huh? And you say this is a no-strings-attached policy?" he nervously asks Jen. She reaches behind his neck and pulls his head closer to gently kiss him on the lips. As she pulls back, she looks directly into his eyes and asserts herself. "I promise, Cal. I can tell that I already care about your plight, but I will hold you to no bonds of my own. You're definitely a gentle and profound soul with whom I have no issues sharing a tender moment with and then letting go. Like returning a majestic creature to its natural habitat after nursing it back to health, I am willing to part with the wonderful feeling of knowing that I helped someone recover from their emotional wounds," she said.

Cal, who usually prides himself on being the insightful one with the cool analogies, found himself unavoidably attracted to Jen following her thoughtful words. He nodded and took her hand in his hand. He leaned forward to return the kiss Jen gave her just a moment ago and the two embraced each other tenderly.

The evening twilight concealed the horizon, much like the time concealed the coming day's events. All over the city, people retired to their comfortable beds alone or with a loved one. Despite their sleeping arrangements, each person slowly entered their sleep looking forward to the next day. Tomorrow would bring the beginning to a new chapter in all of the lives of the residents of Frontier City.


	5. Goodbye, Aimo

The morning brought with it overcast skies and scattered showers. The weather mimicked the emotions of those who were being left behind by their loved ones on their way to the stars; cloudy and teary. The harbor and starport were bustling with activity, doing their best to manage vehicle traffic and the crowds of people there to see their loved ones off. Countless transports and boats arrived and departed, shuttling personnel to their assigned stations on and around the planet Aimo.

One of the first ships scheduled to leave was the Macross Quarter. All the necessary preparations were made and the Quarter was docked longways against the wharf, like the warships of old back on Earth. Several ramps were rigged up against the flight deck for both personnel and large cargo to travel on. On the pier, groups of several people congregated to see off their loved ones.

Alto stood in uniform, ready to part from the two people whom have given him the most grief in his life, and at the same time the most happiness. Sheryl looked like she had not gotten much sleep at all the previous night, but she was the first to say goodbye. She started out with a loving hug and kiss on his cheek. She gently placed a sealed envelope in his hands. It was adorned with sketches and figures. Sheryl probably drew them while thinking of what to put on the letter inside.

"Alto, this is for you. I want you to read it ONLY after you've left orbit. You can talk to me about it when you get back," she said, stepping back to allow Ranka her turn. She took a deep breath and replaced her worried look with one of happiness and strength. Alto saw this and smiled in return. He turned his gaze to Ranka, whose eyes had already begun to water.

Ranka handed Alto a carefully-crafted paper airplane, which was neatly printed with a collage of various pictures of her alone and her with Alto. Obviously the paper airplane was how she embodies Alto, based on their earliest memories together. "It's going to be hard to describe how much I'm going to miss you. I hope this will help you remember some good times while you're out there," she said, teary-eyed. She hugged Alto and buried her face into his chest to let some of those tears out.

After a couple of moments holding Alto, she turned to Ozma. Alto took his last looks at Sheryl, Ranka, Nanase, and Brera. "Brera, why don't you want to come?" Alto asked. "We could definitely use a pilot of your abilities out there for extra security," he said. Brera smiled and shook his head. "My duty is here to protect my sister. Just think of me as Aimo's last line of defense," he said, shaking Alto's hand. The two nodded towards each other. Alto said his final goodbyes to the group, turned around, slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, and made his way up the ramp to the Quarter's flight deck.

Ranka, already sundered by her tears for Alto, also had a hard time saying goodbye to Ozma. For the first time in her life, he was going to be away from her for a long time. "Ever since I can remember, I have always longed for my own life outside of your control. Now that my 'wish' has come true, I don't want it anymore. Please come back soon, Brother," she said with a quivering voice. She handed him a music disc as his gift. Ozma looked at her as if he was about to ask what was on it. She answered him before he could speak a syllable, "I covered your favorite Fire Bomber songs and recorded them just for you. You'll be the only person in the universe with these songs. I hope you like them!"

Ozma was blown away by the profoundness of her gift. It must have been a stroke of genius for her to think of such a thing for a parting present for him. Ozma grinned and gave Ranka a big hug for giving him such a great gift. "I'll be listening to it every night, I promise. Don't worry about a thing, Ranka. Your music could stop an entire army from fighting, and I mean that literally!" he said.

Ranka shrunk back into the group and Cathy confidently strolled up and handed him a large container. "Here's the favor being returned, plus some homework for you," she said, "Pineapple cake and my recipe for it. Your assignment is going to be to learn how to make it RIGHT and then you must create one for me to taste test when you get back." Ozma scoffed at his assignment, but knew that he'd be in big trouble if he didn't do it before returning. Looking past the obvious underlying meaning behind her assignment, which was to not get killed, Ozma gave Cathy a look that she'll not soon forget. They embraced each other for one last passionate kiss before he embarked onto his ship.

Close by, Luca and Nanase spent their last moments together as best as any two young lovers would. Nanase had completely lost control of her sadness and Luca soon thereafter when he saw what her gift to him was. A huge box of painstakingly-crafted snack cookies in various shapes, such as each of their faces, Valkyries, hearts, and even the lieutenant's insignia Luca now carried on his uniform. He was going to have a hard time finishing this box of cookies, no matter how long he was out on deployment.

Kanaria had already finished her goodbyes with her husband and son, and she stood strong in the face of the anxiety of separation from them. She's always been good at convincing herself that her loved ones will always remain safe while she's not at home.

Klan and Nene didn't have anyone to see them off, but they were okay with it, as long as they had each other to keep them company. Just as Klan began to wonder if her sister would ever begin to open up to anyone special to her, she thought Nene was looking at Brera as if she was going to miss him. When did she find time to form a bond with him?? Klan began to imagine Michael walking next to her as she walked up the boarding ramp. In her mind, he'll always be right beside her wherever she goes.

Once the Quarter crew had finished loading up, the group of the newly disassociated headed back to the transportation depot to return home and to work. While standing on the paved walkway, waiting for a bus, Cathy noticed a familiar character standing on the other side of the road waiting for his ride. Cal glumly stood with his duffel bag at his feet, thinking about his previous night's encounter with Jen and his upcoming time in the service in space. He glanced up at the right spot to notice a distraught Cathy staring at him. He could tell that look on her face; someone she loves just left for space. He straightened up and saluted the superior officer with respect. Cathy cracked a smile and saluted in return. Before they could put their arms down at ease, a bus pulled up in front of Cal and stopped, blocking their view. The bus sat and shook as the soldiers loaded up each seat. Once it completed loading, the chassis raised back up and the bus continued on to its next destination. Cathy looked for Cal once the bus left, but he was gone. Again, a hint of sadness entered her heart as she thought about how that may be the last time she sees that particular individual.

Up on the bridge of the Quarter, the crew had completed its preflight checks. Monica, in communications with the harbor master, gave an all-clear to the control center. Outside of the Quarter, the ramps retracted and the moorings popped their restraints off as the cables fell lifelessly to the deck of the wharf. Two tugboats then sounded their enormous foghorns and the engines on the tugs began to toss the water up behind the boats. The Quarter began to slowly pull away from the wharf and headed out to deeper sea to safely raise itself from the water and head for orbit.

Jen had already gone through the "tribunal" from her bridgemates. She neither confirmed nor denied having done **anything** gossip-worthy the night before, but she knew that the gang could see through her neutrality. She was not going to hear the end of it for the rest of the trip, for sure. Her thoughts turned to Cal as the Quarter was briefly turned in the direction of the starport on the edge of the bay. Her anticipation turned to sadness as she realized that she will probably never see him again. "Cal..." she muttered under her breath, trying to smile at her memory of him from last night. A couple of the girls heard her and whipped their heads around to see where it came from.

"Cal." Cal, who was standing in line outside of the transport, whipped his head around to see who called his name. Nobody seemed to be looking for him... until a courier from Bell-Casse emerged from behind a group of soldiers, holding a package. "Cal Wagner?" he asked as he ran up to Cal. Cal nodded and took the pen from him to sign the delivery receipt. "Your package, sir. Good luck to you!" he yelled as he ran back off. Cal briefly looked at the package to see if David's name was on it. Yup, it was. He stuffed it into his duffel to read when he got on board his ship.

The transport was a bit crowded, but Cal didn't seem to mind. At least he had a window seat. The soldier next to him initiated some small talk while they waited for takeoff, and Cal was receptive, but not very interested in talking at the moment. He stared off at the sight of the entire city being partially lit by the sun breaking through the clouds. Pillars of light crept across the buildings and they each glimmered like giant diamonds intricately placed in rows. "This is why I do what I do," he thought to himself. He made sure he made a mental picture of the city in its pristine glory this fine morning.

The transport pinned its passengers in their seats from the inertial force of its sudden acceleration. As the ship moved forward, Island-1 was no longer blocking view of the Quarter still being shuttled out to sea for takeoff. The image of other ships about to leave the planet was soothing to Cal. He knew that space wasn't as lonely or isolated as some people make it out to be. It just means he'll have more room to fly his Valkyrie wherever he chooses... as long as he's not disobeying orders.

The blue sky quickly turned navy blue and gradually to black, as the transport ship left the atmosphere. Cal could once again feel the momentary sensation of weightlessness until the artificial gravity was turned back on and his rear end bore the brunt of the weight of his upper torso.

Still on the planet surface, the Quarter prepared for its takeoff. The tugboats had already drawn in their tug lines and headed back to the harbor. The crew waited for the ship to begin its ascent while strapped into the nearest restraining harness they could find. All sections reported in green and all equipment was properly fastened down to the decks. Captain Wilder stood up to speak into an open comm line to the ship's interior.

"To the crew of the Quarter, I am proud to once again serve as your Captain. We have quite a busy schedule ahead of us for the duration of our voyage and I hope that we will all be able to return home safely to our loved ones," his voice resounded through the ship. Everyone was attentively listening to his words coming from the nearest speaker. "May we return to base in success," he finished. Lam cut the comm on Wilder's motion. He turned to Bobby and ordered the Quarter to move out. "Bobby, ahead slow," he said, sitting down in his Captain's chair. The Quarter slowly lifted from the water and moved forward, maintaining its ascent velocity into orbit.

After circumnavigating the planet's atmosphere for some time, the transport ship carrying Cal began to creep up on a small battlegroup of starships. Cal became glued to the window, searching out his new home, the Azusa. The ships became larger with every passing moment until they were close enough to read the identification numbers and the ship's name printed on the hull. A Guantanamo-class carrier bore the name "Azusa" and Cal's eyes searched the ship over, as if he was checking out a beautiful woman on the street.

The transport slowed down to ease its way into the docking bay. Spacesuit-clad workers in the bay stood ready to service the transport once it stopped moving and docked to the airtight walkway for the passengers to travel across onto their new ship. Cal anticipated the freedom to move about once again on a combat ship, a feeling he had forgotten since his last time in space a few months back.

As the exit crept closer, the door at the end bragged to Cal about the unrestricted movement that would be allowed behind it. Just as he got to the door, though, the line of soldiers stopped and there were several desks with officers sitting behind them. The desks were somewhat disorganized with PDA's and tablets strewn about them. The officers worked quickly to process the new soldiers, but it seemed like forever before Cal was going to get his quarters assignment and subsequently meet his new squad and leader.

After what seemed like an eternity, Cal received his quarters assignment and was ordered to attend a mandatory orientation and lunch in the ship's galley. His first priority, though, was to find his quarters and make himself right at home. "Home," he thought, "is always a relative term to a soldier." Soldiers are always expected to make use of their surroundings, no matter how dire the situation. Fortunately, a 6.5' x 4' bunkbed mattress doesn't seem so bad, compared to the restricting confines of a hospital bed and debilitating injuries.

Cal had no problems finding his quarters. The halls were full of new soldiers lugging their duffels back and forth, trying to make sense of the directory listings on the walls. Each quarter room was a double. Nearest to the door on the left was a full size closet door with shelves inside. There were two bunkbeds equipped with a small display screen at the foot of the bed and a shelf near the head, shrouded by a privacy curtain. Two drawers were installed underneath each bed. Beyond the beds was a door leading to a simple toilet and sink. There was enough space in the walking area for a small table with two chairs. Another larger display screen was located on the back wall next to the bathroom.

It looked like Cal's roommate had already moved in, but he wasn't in the room. Cal sat his duffel bag on the bed and pulled one of the chairs up to sit in while he sifted through his belongings before storing them. Aside from the regulation uniforms, Cal had some civvies, some VF models, and a framed picture of him and Marie. He spent some time to glance at the picture and put Marie's image into his mind to mentally savor. Cal gently placed the picture on the shelf at the head of his bed. He also placed the models into various poses. The clothes went into the drawers under his bed. Cal placed the package from Bell-Casse on his bed so he could open it later. Having moved in, Cal decided to roam the halls a bit before attending the squadron-hosted lunch and orientation.

The galley was a little more expansive than Cal had remembered them being on a carrier with a complement of around 1000 soldiers. This was fortunate, because it was going to be crowded with an entire VF squadron and supporting personnel taking up valuable real estate in the lunchroom. Pilots and maintenance crew gradually congealed into a group near the side of the lunchroom where the commanding officer patiently watched the time before he was going to start. A portable projector sat on the table next to some food he was picking at while waiting.

1200 hours hit and the watch on the squadron commander's wrist beeped to inform him of the time. "All right, listen up!" the commander barked. The buzzing of chatter quickly died down and the sound of chairs scooting up to the tables tapered off. "Welcome to Helios Squadron," the commander said with his hands behind his back. The projector turned on to display a welcome splash screen with the squadron logo on it. The logo was a simple orange sphere with a Valkyrie closely orbiting in front of it, leaving a solid red vapor trail that wrapped around to the backside. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Benjamin Junzou. I will be the squadron commander. We are a general purpose space superiority fighter group, equipped with VF-171EX and RVF-171EX fighters. For our mission, the Azusa will be serving a support role to the Captain Wilder's Macross Quarter during it's operations at Coral-5 and the Kihnes Asteroid Belt," Junzou said.

The name "Macross Quarter" hit Cal like a ton of bricks. He sulked down in his chair as he realized that Jennifer Wentz was serving on that ship. Commander Junzou explained the fleet's mission in the asteroid belt in more detail while thoughts raced through Cal's mind. "Before we begin our operations in the asteroid belt, we will be performing training and combat simulations in the rings of the Coral-5 planet. The purpose of this phase is to test out your abilities and to blow the dust off of your wings in preparation for any possible encounters with Galaxy forces. Also, the very best of you pilots will be selected to join the Macross Quarter as one of its elite forces pilots. NUNS has designated Skull Squadron as the newest elite squadron. Our job is to help them staff that squadron. That means that some of you may not be in Helios Squadron for very long," Junzou continued.

Murmurs began to develop amongst the excited pilots. Already, you could feel the energy of exuberant pilots permeating the stale starship air. Various pilots could be heard bragging of how they're going to earn a spot on the Quarter. Commander Junzou changed the projection screen to show the assignment of each team leader and their wingmen. "Take a look at this assignment chart and see where you will be serving. I also understand that we will be participating in some munitions testing with one of our defense contractors. Who's the test pilot?" he asked, looking around. Cal quietly raised his hand. Junzou smiled, "We're looking forward to seeing what kind of surprises you will have in that bag of tricks."

"Find your team leaders and form up into groups," the Commander ordered. The team leaders stood up and called out their names so the pilots would know where to go. Cal heard his team leader's name over the brief cacophony of team leaders calling out to their pilots. "Prince! Over here, people!" As he sat down, the other pilots recognized him as the test pilot and expressed approval of having the wildcard of the squadron in their team. Each pilot introduced themselves in order around the table. "1st Lieutenant Frank Prince", "Ensign Theresa Carter", "2nd Lieutenant Calvin Wagner", "Ensign Kyung Bae", they all said to each other. Lieutenant Price turned to Cal to speak, "Wagner, you'll be flying the RVF in our team and you'll be 2nd in charge. Your bird will be retrofitted to use the munitions and systems that Bell-Casse sent to us. They thoroughly trained our team mechanic to install and maintain those systems, so you won't have to worry too much about doing all of the work yourself. They also made it specifically clear to us the necessity for your bird to be the RVF, since some of their systems require use of the enhanced radome it carries. Looks like you won't be getting a huge chunk of the action since you'll be acting in a supporting role as our eyes and ears. The rest of us, we will all be flying standard VF-171EX fighters. I'll need your weapons loadout choices to me in an hour for approval. I've read your personnel reports and from what I have seen, I expect this team to dominate those war games!" he said. The team nodded and agreed verbally.

Cal began to think about Frank's unintentionally condescending comment about him having to fly the RVF and not being able to use it as effectively as a VF. Fortunately, this encourages him to show up his team leader by outperforming the expectations that all pilots project onto the RVF variant of the fighter. Ever since the RVF was introduced to NUNS forces, it's been looked down upon as the fighter that they give the less-talented pilots because of its reduced agility and performance. Fortunately, he also had the test munitions at his disposal to increase his combat effectiveness. NUNS probably showed interest in Bell-Casse's technologies based on the input they received of the RVF from its pilots. Cal smiled as he thought to himself how he was going to blow them all away by his hidden potential. Being a test pilot in the past has afforded him the opportunity to try unorthodox maneuvers and tactics.

As the meeting drew to a close, Cal listened attentively to his teammates as they spoke. He was gauging their abilities and potential based on their statements about their combat techniques and technical knowledge of their machines and weapons. Commander Junzou adjourned the meeting and bid his new pilots a farewell.

Cal decided to head back to his quarters. To his surprise, Ensign Bae turned out to be his roommate. The two spent some time further acquainting themselves and watching some television programs on the large display screen.

While the fleet's preparations came to a close, the ships started to move in formation to rendezvous with the Macross Quarter before entering a subspace fold procedure. As the fleet began to come together, Captain Wilder took the time to address the fleet over the communication lines. All display screens were tuned to his message.

"On behalf of the Macross Quarter and the NUNS, I formally welcome you all to this operation. I am Captain Jeffrey Wilder and I will be assuming the position of Fleet Captain for the duration of this mission. Macross Quarter will be serving as the fleet flagship and I will be expecting the very best level of support from my ship and from the rest of the fleet. Shortly, we will enter subspace and emerge near the 1st moon of Coral-5. We will begin fleet operations immediately following our defold. Squadron leaders have been given operations schedules for security patrol and combat simulations and I expect them to be adhered to. I bid you all good luck on our mission. All ships, prepare to enter subspace on my mark," Captain Wilder said. The communications feed cut out as he finished.

As Wilder sat down in his chair, Monica's radar station began to alert her of subspace activity nearby. "Captain! I'm reading several defold reactions bearing 012, range 200 kilometers. Large ships are now emerging from subspace!" she exclaimed. The Captain stood up and looked out the window towards Monica's stated bearing. Defold reactions could be seen in the distance, with several ships beginning to emerge in an attack posture. "Magnification!" he barked. The viewscreen refreshed with a clear magnification of the incoming ships. "They appear to be Zentraedi ships, sir! I'm scanning for IFF signatures now," Monica tensely stated. "There appears to be interference from the fold reactions, it may take awhile to get their identification," she continued.

Trained to react quickly, Wilder had to make a decision. "All hands, be on alert! There are numerous incoming ships!" he barked out to the fleet. He turned to Monica, who was nervously waiting for her instruments to identify the ships. "Lam, hail the ships and ask them for identification!" he said. Lam began to send the transmission from her console. The response time was stretching on for eternity as the nervous crew waited for their next orders. Monica and Lam stared at their screens, waiting for any semblance of response.

By now, the entire Zentraedi fleet had emerged from subspace and escort fighters started to emerge from the bays to secure the area around the capital ships. Lack of response continued to dog the Quarter's fleet, as fingers of nervous personnel tapped on their respective consoles.

After an eternity of waiting, Lam's console beeped from receiving a signal. She promptly opened the communications line and displayed the image at the front of the bridge. A Zentraedi fleet commander stood sternly on his bridge. His archivist officer could only be partially seen standing next to him. The commander didn't look terribly happy. These Zentraedi could come from an uncultured fleet and were looking for a fight!

After a few seconds of silence, the Zentraedi fleet commander changed his disposition to a more cheerful one. "This is Fleet Commander Toral Raozj. We have traveled here to offer the Frontier Colony and its citizens our military support services in exchange for the opportunity to establish a peaceful life on your planet. We received word from Earth NUNS Headquarters that your fleet has successfully colonized a new planet and that you have already created accommodations for your Zentraedi population to live there. We are now transmitting our official designation orders from Earth NUNS over encrypted channel," the commander said. He nodded off in the distance to one of his subordinates to send the transmission. Monica examined the incoming information and confirmed its legitimacy.

Wilder welcomed the newly arrived soldiers and colonists, "On behalf of the Planet Aimo, Frontier Government, and NUNS, we welcome you to our colony. We will forward your communications to NUNS HQ and Frontier Government for processing and approval. Please hold your positions while we wait for a response." Wilder sighed a deep breath of relief. "Commander? We're glad you all are on our side," he said. Toral grinned and nodded in response. "You scared the bejesus out of us," Wilder chuckled. "We thought we might mess with you guys a bit before responding," Toral responded with a laugh.

Wilder cut communications and sat down with a bit of a pout. Those crazy Zentrans nearly gave him a heart attack. He ordered the fleet to stand fast while Frontier Government gave them the OK to leave orbit.

After a bit of waiting, several NUNS capital ships began to show up and head towards the new Zentraedi fleet. Lam alerted Captain Wilder to the transmission she just received. "Captain, we've just been given word to proceed with our operation as scheduled," she said. Wilder opened up a comm line to the fleet, "All ships, proceed with the fold operation."

The Quarter's fleet slowly accelerated forward and entered subspace, leaving behind only a brief afterimage of the space they previously occupied. 200 kilometers away, NUNS ships and the Zentraedi fleet performed a ballet of maneuvers. It looks like the colony just got a lot bigger in such a short series of events. The people of the planet had some more work to do to accommodate their new giant companions.


	6. Happenstance

Cal had spent the time waiting in the Azusa's hangar for the fold operation to begin. He had drawn first patrol watch after the defold and needed to become more familiar with his new bird and the ordnance systems that Bell-Casse had installed on it. Cal stood near his ship, admiring its beauty. Ever-so-gently, he caressed the hull of the ship learning, by touch and sight, every detail of the ship's profile. He introduced himself to the ship and climbed into the cockpit. The EX-gear he was wearing seemed so clumsy, but he did the best he could to cope with it.

Cal pulled out the package from Bell-Casse and extracted its contents. Numerous crudely written and drawn manuals laid inside. There was also a test schedule mixed among the documents. Cal immediately began to read the manuals to pass the time while he waited for the fleet to finish the fold operation.

As the ships defolded, the crew in the hangar began to scurry about in preparation for the first launch of the fighters. Cal had gotten through most of the manuals by this time. He placed them into a convenient stow in the cockpit and put his helmet on. The EX-gear firmly rested in place around his body and in the pilot's seat. The mechanic did a final check on Cal's EX-gear and the RVF's flight systems. After a thumbs up, the canopy closed over Cal and he awaited his ascension to the launch pad. The launching arm entered the hangar through the airlock and plucked Cal's ship up from the deck and hoisted it onto the ship's surface. As the arm moved into place, Cal was bathed by the light from the Coral star reflecting off of Coral-5's moon. The catapult officer, located in the transparent dome near the launching point, performed a final visual inspection of Cal's bird. "Good luck, Helios 14!" the officer's voice crackled over the radio. "Thank you," Cal responded. Satisfied with the readiness of Cal's ship, he released the arm and gave the OK signal for launch. Cal pushed the throttle into military power and the ship instantly reacted, subjecting his body to the inertial force of sudden acceleration.

Cal notices the lack of g-forces on his body, despite the ship accelerating so fast. He decides to spend a moment getting a feel for his ship's power and the effectiveness of the EX-gear's inertial dampening abilities. The Azusa's Flight Control Officer gave Cal his heading orders. He promptly acknowledged and headed towards the rings of Coral-5. He was to meet his patrol partner once he got there.

The fleet slowly moved into position near the rings, with a complement of fighters spearheading the expeditionary force. Cal had some time before he reached his designated patrol area, but he remained attentively fixed on his radar screen, looking for any possible hostile targets. He also began to acquaint himself with the improved sensor array and readouts from the RVF. He only had time to read the manuals and watch tutorials, so this was his first time working with the real thing.

The fighter patrols worked their way outward into a spherical shape, securing a very large area of space in preparation for the combat simulations and training that were to be taking place on an ongoing basis for an undisclosed amount of time. Hundreds of fighters formed the defensive perimeter, which stretched on for hundreds of kilometers in each direction. The fleet of ships spread out to engulf a large portion of Coral-5's rings. Fighters continued to launch from the Quarter and its companion carriers, filling the complement of required fighters needed to secure the perimeter.

A lone bright red Queadluun charged through space on its way to its patrol area. Inside the power armor, Klan Klang began to anticipate the upcoming action of the operation. She was quite excited about finally being back in combat, regardless of it being virtual or actual. It was just another chance to assert herself as one of the best pilots in the NUNS forces.

As she reached her assigned rendezvous point, she decelerated and stopped near a large ice particle. No sign of any ships, friendly or hostile, nearby. She clicked her tongue at the ineffectiveness of the poor sap she was going to be paired with since she traveled a farther distance to get there than any other fighter not from the Quarter. After about 30 seconds of waiting, her radar display alerted her to a fighter entering the regional space nearby.

Cal approached his designated coordinates at a moderate cruising speed, looking for signs of the craft that he was to conduct the patrol with. Once he came within 200 km of his rendezvous point, a blip appeared on his radar screen. After confirming IFF, the screen revealed the craft profile to the pilot. "A Queadluun Rhea?? I don't believe it! I've only seen them on TV, but I get to work with one! No doubt, the pilot must be Zentraedi," he said to himself with glee. Cal's interest in military vehicles and weapons gives him a keen insight to the details of those kinds of things.

"This is Skull-5, Lt. Commander Klan Klang. What is the delay in your arrival?" Cal's radio barked. The visual image popped up on display after the report, revealing Klan's face to him while she waited for an answer. "Ma'am! I proceeded to my assigned coordinates as ordered. I have no reason for the delay," Cal promptly answered. "Your designation?" Klan asked. "Helios 14, 2nd Lieutenant Calvin Wagner, Ma'am," Cal replied.

Cal's RVF approached Klan's Queadluun as he finished his response. He slowed, transformed his RVF into a battroid, and saluted. Klan returned the salute in kind with her Queadluun. Klan thought to herself, "Great, I get to spend the next 8 hours with a fledgling." "Your slow arrival will be noted in my report, Lieutenant. It would be wise to try to keep up with me for the duration of this patrol," Klan barked. "Yes, Ma'am," Cal courteously replied. The comm line cut and Cal was left in silence. "What a nutbuster..." he muttered to himself. This was not starting out well for him. He always knew that Zentraedi took their military service quite seriously, but this wasn't what he had expected.

Cal spent the next couple of hours doing his best to relearn flying the 171EX. Klan was moving quickly amongst the ice and rock particles, dashing back and forth through them as if it was nothing to her. Cal's piloting skills were noticeably shaky to start and Klan started to get annoyed with his showing. "Wagner, is there something wrong with your RVF?" she asked. "No, Ma'am. This is just my first flight in a long time. I spent the last few months in a hospital bed, so it's taking some getting used to." Klan became frustrated with this development and began to think to herself, "_Leave it to the NUNS to hurriedly put someone in the cockpit of a fighter_." "Do you want me to slow down so you can use your training wheels?" she sarcastically asked. She expected him to agree. "No, Ma'am. I'll be fine from here on out. I'm pretty much used to it now." Klan tried to not let it surprise her and she instead scoffed and charged on ahead of Cal to resume her patrol. Cal's movements tightened up as he moved closer to the Queadluun to follow Klan's route.

After completing a thorough search and scan of the area, Klan asked Cal for a summary of his readouts. After receiving his report, she gave him his new orders, "Okay, we're going to remain in this area for awhile. Set your sensors to continuously scan at a 500km radius. You are free to go wherever you wish, as long as I am within 10km." Cal acknowledged his orders. Virtually leashed to Klan's Queadluun, he decided to just float around nearby while he fiddled with the nuances of his ship. Klan watched him constantly transforming his ship and boosting off, as if he was testing out the reaction and transformation times. She thought to herself, "_At least he's getting to know his machine the right way_." It was a sign that he was a pilot with potential.

Back on the Quarter, space traffic control was a full-time job for Jennifer Wentz. Bobby watched Jen juggling communications and orders around like a pro. It looks like she'll be fitting in well as the flagship's FCO. In the hangar, crews ready Alto's and Ozma's VF-25s for their first sorties. The war games will be well under way once they have reached their observation coordinates. As the VFs taxi towards the deck elevator, Ozma gives Alto an important order, "Try not to make these newbies look too bad, Alto." Alto worked to get his mind into a focused state.

During one of his practice maneuvers, Cal noticed the faint flashes of exhaust bursts and muzzle flashes coming from the areas around the Quarter's location. The bursts indicated frenetic combat taking place there. Cal opened up his channel to talk to Klan, "Looks like they've already started the war games." "Don't take your eyes of that radar screen for too long," she curtly responded. Cal's attempt at small talk failed miserably. He must be on patrol with some kind of robot.

Once the patrol shift began to wind down, Klan ordered Cal to follow her on another set of rounds. This time, Cal had grown more accustomed to his ship and made a game out of trying to keep up with Klan's every move, while remaining in gunsight. Klan noticed Cal's continuous attack posture towards her ship, with every turn she made. She decided to put Cal in his place with an acrobatic show of piloting prowess. "I see you've improved. However, you still have much to learn," she said as she increased the throttle on her Queadluun and maneuvered around the particles with blinding speed. Cal tried his hardest to keep up and was somewhat successful, but he eventually became flustered at trying to mimic her moves and eventually entered into a more stable cruising posture. Klan scoffed at Cal over the comm line and turned down the showcase a few notches. Cal couldn't help but snicker in response. Klan was right... he's got a long ways to go.

Some hours later, Cal relaxed in the Azusa's galley. He sat with a drink in his hand, watching the television set. Kyung was also off duty and set his food down beside Cal. "How was it?" he asked Cal. "I got paired up with one of the Skull pilots on the Quarter. Lt. Commander Klan Klang and her amazing Queadluun Rhea..." Cal trailed off. Kyung's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. "Klang? THAT Klang?? I feel sorry for you, Cal," he said. Cal sat up and turned towards Kyung. "Why do you say that?" he asked. "I've heard stories about her from other pilots," Kyung replied, "They say she singlehandedly took on 10 Vajra at once and emerged without a scratch. Plus, she's a real hard pill to swallow. There've been numerous complaints from pilots about her overbearing, despotic, iron-fisted command style."

Cal laughed at the tall tales he was being told. "She's tough, I'll agree with that, but **ten** Vajra? I don't know..." he said. "Shall I go on?" Kyung asked. Cal thought about that for a second. He's had enough of Klan Klang for one day. "No, that's okay. I think I'll just lick my wounds over here for awhile," he jokingly said.

In the Quarter's hangar, Ozma had just returned from his first set of wargames observations. Klan promptly entered the office to deliver her patrol reports. "You've been busy..." Ozma remarked at the lengthy report. He continued to read the report and stopped midway, "Just make it brief. What did you think so far?" "About the patrol or the pilot?" Klan asked. Ozma just smiled and didn't answer. Klan waited for him to speak, but instead continued with her response, "Chicklings... all of them, I swear to God. They're going to be the death of me, Ozma. I need **good** pilots, not this fodder." Ozma began to formulate a plan in his head to push Klan a little more.

Minutes later in the hangar, Klan was seen leaving Ozma's office, obviously upset about something. She stormed off to the stairs leading to the living section of the ship. Some of the pilots and personnel looked at each other in curiosity as if to discuss what they just saw and the reason for such a hostile attitude. Then they remembered that it was only Klan just being herself.

As the day cycled over, 1st shift began its operations. This was Cal's sleeping time and he was sawing logs on his bed. The Bell-Casse manuals were dispersed around the surface of his bed, with one still in his hands as he slept.

Cal drew patrol duty again the next day. He had been wondering when it was his team's turn to participate in the war games, since he'd heard numerous stories from pilots while he ate breakfast in the galley. The most dominant subject from the pilots' mouths was the glaring difference in skill levels of the NUNS pilots and the pilots in Skull Squadron. Expectations must have been put out of reach of many of the pilots after their brief and decisive encounters with Skull pilots. Cal's experience with Klan the day before helped him accept the truth from the other pilots on the Azusa.

Cal's RVF-171EX charged to his patrol checkpoint at full throttle. He wasn't going to be reprimanded by whoever was in charge of the patrol this time. His eyes kept wandering towards the ship's synchronized clock, making sure he'd arrive to his destination on time.

Once there, he stopped and did a sensor scan to find out if his patrol partner was waiting for him. The only ships in sensor range were the two VFs from the previous patrol shift; exiting the patrol area to return to their motherships. He was a little early, so at least he could take comfort in knowing that he wasn't going to get any crap about it.

The rendezvous time expired and a minute passed beyond that. Cal's sensor readouts alerted him to an incoming vehicle and he waited for the IFF to return a signal. Once again, the ship was identified as a Queadluun Rhea. Digital magnification showed a red Queadluun heading into the area. "Oh shit... It's Klang again..." he muttered under his breath. "Someone must be playing a really mean prank on me," he thought to himself.

Klan was already in a crappy mood. Her exchange with Ozma the day before was still fresh in her mind and she needed someone to take it out on. Ozma's voice replayed in her head, "Since you still don't understand what it is that we're doing here, I'm going to assign you to the same pilot for your patrol shift tomorrow." Klan had to be reminded of her job the hard way. Leave it to Ozma to find the best ways to punish the dumb things that his pilots say and do around him. Alto got a taste of that a few days ago on Aimo.

Klan's HUD showed a tiny RVF waiting for her arrival in the distance. She imagined taking her index finger and thumb and squishing the poor ship into a paste. If only Cal knew of the impending fury the Meltran was planning to unload on him over the next few hours...

As she arrived physically, Cal was in battroid form standing on one of the larger ice particles. Cal knew he shouldn't say anything about her being a tad late, but the urge to give her a little crap about it overwhelmed his sense of logic... and self-preservation. Klan observed Cal's battroid looking at the wrist area on its arm and a foot tapping on the ice particle... Someone is being a smartass.

Before Cal could even react, Klan had physically knocked his battroid to the ground and pointed one of her guns at the chest area of his RVF. "I swear to God, you do something like that again and I will shove my foot up your micloned ass!" she yelled over the comm link. Cal learns quickly that insolence is not tolerated. He'll have to watch himself or he might find his head literally being crushed between her thumb and index finger.

On Aimo, the NUNS had just completed its deployment strategy. Now another problem must be handled quickly. An entire fleet of Zentraedi warships remained in orbit, awaiting clearance to land and establish a base near Frontier City. Cathy remained hard at work at the Joint Chiefs office, supporting her superiors in every way she could. She was in a meeting with many government officials and a handful of the Zentraedi fleet's command staff, who micloned themselves for this meeting.

The NUNS Corps of Engineers presented their strategy for accommodating the explosion in Zentraedi population. Another enormous undertaking was about to begin, but at least the Zentraedi soldiers offered their full cooperation in helping to build onto the existing Zentraedi city of Laplamiz. Laplamiz was relatively small compared to Frontier City, but fortunately, the terrain was favorable for a rapid expansion of new buildings and infrastructure. The only hurdle was to manufacture the materials needed to create the enormous buildings for the Zentraedi to live in.

Cathy emerged from the meeting with a heavy sigh, while officers, government officials, and the Zentraedi command staff filed out of the conference room chattering amongst each other. She thinks about how she could use a little pampering from Ozma, but she knows it's not going to happen. At least a lot of decisions were made to get the project moving. The Corps of Engineers had done a thorough job of doing the expansion planning and architecture work prior to the meeting. Everyone was impressed by the presentation and gave the nod to break ground as soon as possible.

Cathy's new job was to process and deploy the Zentraedi forces to meld them in with the current planetary defense forces. One thing was for sure, though... Aimo would be a little bit safer from now on, thanks to the new Zentraedi forces joining the colony.

Since Ozma wasn't around to help her feel a little better, she looked to the next person on her mind. She pulled out her PDA and made a phone call. Waiting for someone to pick up, she reacted to the sound of the line connecting, "Ranka?" she asked.

Klan's red Queadluun charged through the rings of Coral-5, with Cal's RVF following closely behind. He no longer struggled to control his ship and began to make independent movements, while staying well within range of Klan. They completed their rounds and stopped to maintain a watch over the 500km radius of their patrol zone.

Sensing that Klan may be cooling down from her raging fury from earlier, Cal decided to attempt to make a more personal connection. Already, he sees her piloting abilities as the standard that he wants to achieve. As long as he's got the opportunity to work closely with her, he will have someone capable of pushing him to improve as a pilot.

"Commander?" Cal asked, opening his comm line. Klan answered impatiently, "What is it, Wagner?" "Sorry about earlier. I was out of line," Cal struggled to admit. He couldn't believe he was apologizing so easily about something that seemed so minor to him. He figured he'd have to remain on her good side in order improve his chances at flying with her again. Fortunately, Klan had subsided from her outburst earlier. She'd remembered her promise to herself about lightening up.

"Damn straight you were out of line. Make sure you keep your nose clean, chickling," she said. Cal lightly laughed at the "chickling" comment. "What's so funny?" Klan asked. "Nothing. Just... you called me a 'chickling'," Cal replied. "...And?" "Yeah, I guess I do look like a newbie pilot, don't I?" "What do you mean by that??" "Look at it this way... I actually have been flying for years as a test pilot. I only recently joined the NUNS as a combat pilot. Then, I spent the last few months relearning how to walk after recovering from my injuries. They say you never forget how to fly once you've learned, but it's not so true when you had lost your ability to walk on your own. You have to rebuild those neural pathways so your body does what you want it to again."

Klan thought about Cal's predicament for a moment. "Then you'll be a chickling until you've proven otherwise... sorry!" Klan confidently stated. The pilot's ways were unwritten, but generally understood by all. Cal had to accept his unofficial title, according to the "rules". Those who had proven their skills as pilots shed their condescending titles and earned the right to judge the other new pilots by using the same names they once held themselves.

The two pilots remained silent for a moment. Klan once again reminded herself of her promise. She was curious to know a little more about Cal's flying experience. "Why'd you quit the test piloting business? I heard the money in the private sector is good," she asked. There's that question again... Cal did find it easier to talk about the loss of his fiancee each time someone asked him about it. Cal proceeded to enlighten Klan about his days as a test pilot and how they came to an end. Learning of Cal's loss, Klan was immediately reminded of the moment she lost Michael.

"Let me show you something," Cal said as he reached under his helmet to undo the couplings on his pressure suit. He pulled off his helmet and loosened the neck enough for him to reveal the string tied around his neck that held his and Marie's engagement rings. Cal proudly showed Klan his keepsake. Seeing this, Klan began to focus on the feeling of Michael's frames she still wore under her pressure suit. "This is how I honor her memory." She began to look out the side of her helmet, reminiscing of her lost loved one, and doing a poor job of hiding it. Cal saw the expression on her face and immediately recognized it. He finds himself making that same face when he's thinking about Marie.

The two became silent once more as they thought of their past and searched for something else to say. Before either could say anything, Cal's sensor console began to alert him of incoming craft. He looked down as it showed the IFF signal. Looking back up, he notified Klan, "Looks like our relief is here." Klan didn't answer.

Cal felt like he had to say something to comfort Klan. It looks like she's still hurting from the pain of loss. He slowly approached her Queadluun while he was in battroid form, placed the battroid's hand on the Queadluun's shoulder and spoke in a sincere tone, "The nights are lonely and cold. You seek to bury your feelings deep inside of you, but they reemerge as something more horrible. Wear your scars on the outside and you'll find that they heal faster." Cal wanted to make sure Klan knew that he is going through the same problems.

As the relief ships approached, Cal took it as his queue to leave Klan to her thoughts alone. He straightened up his battroid and saluted. "See you around, Commander," he said. He then transformed into fighter mode and blasted off to his mothership. Klan remained motionless for a minute, trying to deal with the impact of Cal's advice. She slowly accelerated towards the Quarter, still engulfed in her thoughts. Once again, someone has come along who has given her profound words to help her deal with the pain she continues to experience to this day.

In the hangar of the Quarter, Alto had just returned from his patrol runs. He noticed a still-Zentran-ized Klan sitting on the deck in front of her Queadluun, looking off to the distance and holding something near her neck. As he approached her, he saw that it was Michael's frames. "Are you okay?" he asked as he cautiously walked around her foot into her view. She looked at Alto briefly and looked back at the same spot on the wall she was staring at. Alto waited for a response, but thinking that she should be left alone, he started to move away.

"Alto," she said. He turned around and looked at her again. "Do you think I've changed in a bad way since Michael's death?" Alto was scanning her question for any traps. Nope! It's clear. "It's hard for me to say without being blunt, so I will be blunt. The stories I've heard from pilots are becoming stuff of legends. They fear you. The nickname 'Blue-haired Nephilim' has gained popularity amongst the pilots," Alto replied. Klan was initially surprised at the nickname her ferocity had earned her, but then laughed off the cleverness of the title.

"Why the sudden desire to look inwards?" Alto asked. Klan thought about Bobby's and Cal's words, "Sometimes people come along in your life that say or do something to make you rethink who you are. I'm sorry if I've been so intolerable to you guys these last few months," she said. Alto shook his head and answered, "Klan, we loved the part about you that took your job so seriously. Just turn it down a few notches and you'll be back to normal again." Alto headed to the showers and left Klan to think about things on her own again.

On the Azusa, Cal found out that his team was slated to participate in its first simulated battle in 7 hours. He decided to head straight to his quarters to get some sleep before the big showdown. Entering his quarters, he could hear Kyung's display screen on behind the closed curtains. A television show quietly chattered away on it. Cal changed for bed and laid down to be alone with his thoughts. Kyung was still awake and had to ask Cal about his patrol to get any stories from him.

"How was it? Did you get the Nephilim again?" Kyung asked. Cal rolled his eyes and responded, "Yeah. She's not as bad as you think, though." Kyung didn't believe him. He'd heard too many stories from the pilots to change his mind now. "Oh, you'll see..." Kyung taunted Cal. The display screen clicked off and Kyung could be heard rolling over into a sleeping position in his bunk. "Gonna kick some ass tomorrow," Kyung said, referencing their upcoming battle.

Cal remained silent. He couldn't get rid of the feelings of sympathy for Klan's plight, even though he's already managed to deal with his own. Memories of his last two days of encounters with Klan flashed through his mind. Going from dealing with such a despotic attitude, to cracking that defensive shell she formed around herself and revealing the vulnerable insides was quite a change. He fell asleep thinking of Marie once again...

Klan laid in her bed, unable to sleep, as she desperately searched for the answers within herself. How is she going to be able to move on from Michael's death? How can someone who is as strong as she is seem so weak in the presence of a miclone? Why does she find Cal so strangely intriguing, despite her desire to remain separated from any attachment to the chickling pilot? Has she really earned the nickname she's been given by the NUNS pilots? Her thoughts remained focused on Michael's memory as she nodded off to sleep.


	7. The First Dance

Cal woke up before his alarm had even gone off. There's no way he was going to allow himself to sleep in. With plenty of time to shower and eat, he headed down to the hangar to work on his RVF. Perhaps now was the time to test out some of the crafty devices that Bell-Casse had sent to the Azusa for him to use.

Cal spoke with the team mechanic for a short while, discussing the implementation of some of the new systems for testing. The two decided to work together to prepare his Valkyrie for the sortie simulation. Since missile packs were not going to be used, Cal opted to not carry the hologram nor the chaff. The flashbangs would have a similar effect without the ability to attract missiles. The two worked on installing the radome modifications so Cal could use them in combat as well. Masking or disguising IFF signals and fold-stealthing might come in handy.

Cal finished his preflight prep just in time for the squadron briefing. It was a small meeting that included only his team, Commander Junzou, and a few other key personnel in the squadron. The mission was simple: Defeat the other team. The battle zone was set right in the center of the rings of Coral-5.

Lieutenant Prince's team was prepped and ready for takeoff. The team had already discussed their strategy and were ready to tear into anyone who stood in their way. As the four Valkyries taxied into launch position, Cal saw the mechanic give him a thumb's up, telling him that everything was readied according to their discussion. Cal had brought a music player onboard and had already installed it into the speaker modules in the cockpit. He always loved listening to his favorite rock songs while he was flying for Bell-Casse. As the launching arms picked up the four Valkyries and placed them into position for takeoff, the comm lines were opened and heavy rock music played over the lines to play the team off. Even Lieutenant Prince smiled at the level of energy that his team was presenting, as they all cheered on the music. This was going to be a great fight.

The team of four launched from the Azusa and pulled into a tight formation while they traveled to the battle zone. Ozma of the Quarter was in charge of the officiating. He opened the comm lines to the eight ships that were going to participate in the battle. Cal had to turn off his music to hear the announcements. "This is Simulation 14, Team Pyrios of Helios Squadron versus Team Proteus of the Neptune Squadron. There are no missiles, but countermeasures are approved. The last team standing will be declared the victor. Good hunting!" Ozma barked. As the two teams entered the sanctioned battlefield, signals were sent out to begin the simulation.

Lieutenant Prince wished his wingmates good luck and they moved out to find their enemies hiding somewhere within the rings of Coral-5. Cal reminded his wingmates of the plan, "I'll be jamming our signatures to the best of my abilities. Let's remain in a tight formation so we'll be harder to detect. This should give us a slight advantage since our opponents may not see us before we see them." The team pulled in a bit closer, following Lt. Prince.

The battle started out with the typical "seek and destroy" routes. Both teams remained vigilant in the search for their opponents. After several minutes, Cal's sensor readouts began to alert him of the enemy's position.

Flying just above the ice and rock particles, Team Proteus remained in a tight diamond formation while they scanned the debris below them. They expected their opponents to be hiding somewhere in the rings.

Before any radar or visual identifications could be made by Team Proteus, they found themselves under fire coming from the other side of the rings. The lead VF was hit several times directly in the fuselage on the dorsal area. Orange paint splattered everywhere, indicating the complete destruction of the team leader. "Enjoy that new paint job, pal!" Cal mocked over the radio channels. The rest of Team Proteus broke formation to avoid getting hit, while paint rounds showered all around.

Ozma announced the disqualification, "Proteus 1, you're dead! Return to base immediately." The mortified pilot slowly peeled away from the battle zone to return home in disgrace. "Chalk up 1 kill for Pyrios 3; Lt. Wagner," Ozma noted over the radio.

On the Quarter's bridge, the crew watched the simulation. Jen was on duty at the time and heard Cal's name. Her shock and amazement became obvious as she instinctively spoke out in reaction, "Cal?" Unfortunately for her, the rest of her bridgemates heard her outburst. It was time to harass Jen about her connection with Cal again!

Cal was locked in combat with a single VF. The two fighters were trying to out-turn each other in a full 360 degree loop. Cal's RVF was not handling the turn well because of the extra weight of his radome. He had to break the loop or be shot down, but Ensign Carter joined the pursuit to help her troubled teammate. "I got you covered, Lieutenant!" she said as she moved into attack posture behind the enemy fighter. Just as she pulled the trigger, she was hit by two paint rounds directly on the canopy, essentially blinding her and disqualifying her. "Pyrios 4, you're out!" Ozma barked over the comm line.

Cal was in deep trouble with two enemy fighters on his tail. It was time to pull one of his tricks out of his bags. He positioned his fighter to release the flashbangs so they'd get as close to the pilot canopies as he could place them before detonation. Cal pulled into a straight line for a brief moment as he released 2 charges to increase his odds for effectiveness. The pair of enemy pilots flew right into the flashbangs and by the time they saw the small particles moving towards them, it was too late.

The flashbangs erupted, completely saturating their cockpits with intense light and scrambling their headsets. Both pilots groaned in agony as their strained to keep their eyes open to keep tabs on their target, but it was too much to handle. Cal, seeing this opportunity, switched to battroid form, flipped over and planted 3 rounds on the fuselage of the leading plane. Sensing that he wouldn't have enough time to take the other plane without being hit, he flipped back into fighter mode and zoomed off to safety.

The trailing pilot regained his vision, only to see his teammate painted with rounds and no enemy target in sight. Cal's radar jamming concealed his position from the sensors of the trailing plane. "Proteus 3, you're out!" Ozma yelled. "Kill number 2 for Pyrios 3; Wagner."

The Quarter's bridge had turned into a cheerleading section. Knowing it embarrassed the hell out of Jen; Bobby, Mena, Lam, and Monica had all gathered around behind her and cheered the fight. "Your man's looking good out there, Jen!" Lam said. Jen couldn't take it lying down, "He's NOT my man! You guys need to cut it out..." Jen's face was beet red. The cheerleading section continued with their chants.

Cal opened up the radio to his team, "I'm going to hide it out in the rings to ambush anyone who comes by. See if you guys can lure any fighters near my current position." Lt. Price agreed. He and Ensign Bae were locked in a 2 on 2 with Team Proteus's remaining fighters. The two pairs of fighters swooped by each other in dual scissors maneuvers, taking shots at each other as they passed through each others' gun sights. Cal patiently waited for prey to fall into his mouth while he stayed out of sight of enemy sensors and visuals.

The two pairs began to make their way towards Cal's position, but Ensign Bae could not wait any longer. He wanted a piece of the glory too! In a desperate move, Bae left fighter mode and switched to Battroid, hoping the sudden move would surprise his attacker and he'd be able to get a quickshot off without chance of retaliation. Prince saw the act of desperation and pleaded Bae not to take a chance, "Ensign Bae, no! You have to remain patient!" It was too late and Bae flipped himself over to get into gunsight and was pelted by green pellets. "Aahhh!" Bae yelled.

"Pyrios 2, you're out!" Ozma announced. Lt. Prince was in a bind... with no wingman to cover him, he had to get those two fighters to Cal's position or he'd be overwhelmed. He was unwilling to compromise the advantage of the enemy not knowing where his wingman was. Prince desperately maneuvered to reduce gun zone time of his attacker. The other enemy plane was working his way around to the back to cover his wingman, expecting an ambush by Cal at any moment.

As the three fighters neared, Cal readied his ambush. He knew he'd only be able to get one of the fighters and he would have to somehow disable or distract the other one to allow Price to get away. As Price flew overhead, Cal used his verniers to produce a high yaw rate and released one of the flashbangs that were magnetically adhered to the outside of one of his engines. The spin produced enough force to fling the unpropelled flashbang towards the two trailing fighters.

The lead enemy fighter passed by the flashbang, but the trailing one fell right into it's path. Again, the pyrotechnics blinded the pilot momentarily, allowing Cal to get into an attack posture behind him and put him down for the count. The lead fighter realized that he was about to fall into gunsight again and erroneously pulled out of the turn he was engaged in. This was Price's opportunity to take a shot without retaliation.

Price transformed to GERWALK for a moment as he used the slower speed to turn his ship onto the enemy's trail. He reengaged as a fighter and closed in for the kill. The enemy pilot had to have completely lost his concentration, because he didn't even seem to try to shake his attacker. Prince planted several paint rounds on his target, ending the match.

Ozma announced the winners over the open comm lines. "Helios Squadron, Team Pyrios, congratulations! Please return to base for your debriefing," he said. Team Pyrios cheered over their team channel. Price and Cal traded high fives in battroid form and they charged off towards he Azusa to meet up with their teammates.

The Quarter's bridge was howling with cheers as they fell over Jen, rubbing her embarrassment all over. Jen was happy for Cal's success, though. She finally shrugged off the embarrassing looks and joined into the cheering. Maybe she'll get to see Cal again soon.

Team Pyrios celebrated their victory in the ship's galley after their debriefing. Lieutenant Price stood up to toast his team. "I just want to say that we did a great job out there today. We have ourselves an ace in the making here..." he said as he pointed his drink towards Cal. Everyone cheered at Cal's 3 kills. "I'll let you know when I hear about our next sortie. For now, it's back to the usual patrol schedule," Price said. Cal had his patrol in 4 hours and decided to duck out early to catch a few winks of sleep before his shift.

The evening sun had settled well below the horizon, obscuring it's life-giving light from Frontier City. Cathy, in need of someone to talk to, had invited Ranka over for dinner. Too tired to cook for two, she ordered Nyan Nyan to go and brought it home to share with Ranka. The two were relaxing in the living room, eating from the take-out boxes spread out on the coffee table.

"Ranka, I can't tell you how glad I am that you can make some time to visit. Even though he's only been gone a few days, I definitely wish I could see Ozma right now." "Is that why you invited me over?" Ranka asked. Cathy nodded and responded, "I thought you might be feeling a bit down because Ozma and Alto are out there somewhere. You and I both have someone whom we miss very much."

Ranka remembered how Ozma admitted to her at one point how much he really loves Cathy. Her thoughts went into the future, imagining Cathy becoming a part of their family if Ozma would quit playing around and put that ring on her finger. "Cathy? You said you miss him, but do you LOVE him?" Ranka asked. Cathy was confused at the question. She was sure that Ranka already knew about her feelings for Ozma. "More than anything," Cathy answered.

"I just wanted to hear you say it, Cathy. I love my Brother very much... and because he loves you, I also love you," Ranka said, slightly blushing. Cathy had never seen Ranka open up to her in such a way. Could it be because she misses her Brother so much, that she needs to release her feelings to Cathy by proxy? Cathy begins to realize that Ranka sees her and Ozma as the same person. Ranka desires to see them become one, through the union of marriage, no doubt.

Cathy was touched profoundly by Ranka's admission. She got up and knelt next to Ranka. "Are you saying that you want us to get married?" Cathy asked Ranka. Ranka's eyes were welling up with tears. "Cathy, you make him happy. I know my Brother better than anyone and I can honestly tell you that he's been so much happier having you by his side again. I don't want that feeling to end for him. Yes, I wish that you and he would get married very soon," Ranka said.

Cathy couldn't believe what she was hearing. She admitted to herself that she hadn't even considered marriage yet because she's been so busy with the endless operations and duties since the city was founded. Ranka is right. Even though Cathy has been working so hard, Ozma has always been there for her to make her feel better when she's had a rough day. Cathy also wants that to be a permanent thing.

"You're right, Ranka. I promise you, I won't let him get away." "Cathy, can I call you 'Sister'?" Ranka asked as she looked into Cathy's eyes. "Of course you can, sweetie," Cathy replied; her heart began to swell with love for Ranka. If she is going to marry Ozma, Cathy's going to have to look at Ranka as a real little sister. Ranka and Cathy gave each other a warm, loving hug, having reached a new level of understanding in their relationship with each other.

After a few minutes to regain their composure, Cathy and Ranka entered into another conversation. "Have you heard about the fleet of Zentraedi who want to join our colony yet?" Cathy asked. Ranka perked up with excitement, "Oh yes! I'm so happy that we'll have a few more Zentrans around. It's so great to look at how Humans and Zentrans can peacefully coexist together, despite having fought such a devastating war against each other when the two races first encountered each other. It's like finding out about long-lost family members and reuniting with them."

Cathy put a more serious look on her face. "It's great that they want to join this colony, but I wonder if we're going to be able to accommodate their desires and support them as colonists. Our resources were being managed at a comparable rate to support slow expansion. This explosion of Zentraedi population is going to put those resources at a critically low level. It may be a long time before we can fully accommodate them," Cathy said. Ranka began to feel a little sorry for those Zentrans who just want to live in peace.

"I have an idea," Cathy said, "Why don't you sing a concert for them? They've been out traveling amongst the stars for so long, I bet they haven't really been able to enjoy a good culturing." Ranka was excited at the idea. "Of course I'll sing for them! Let me talk to Elmo and find out when we can do the concert," she said. Cathy smiled, "They're setting up a starport just outside the city of Laplamiz in preparation for their disembarking into the city once we've started to complete the first housings. I think we can get something put together for you to perform in just a few days."

The two objects of Ozma's affection reached an agreement on their next big plans. "A toast to our Zentraedi friends!" Ranka said, sticking out her chopsticks over the table. Cathy used her chopsticks to complete the toast and the two continued to merrily eat the rest of their food.

Ozma sat at his desk, shoveling food in his mouth using one hand, and holding a set of reports from his pilots in the other while he read them. The last couple of days have been hectic for him, but he seems to be determined to press on with the intense schedule he's had. The faster they finish their recruiting and training, the sooner they can begin with the second phase of their operation.

Klan stopped in to his office on her way to the macronizing chamber. "You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked. Ozma put down the reports and started to eat with both hands. His voice was muffled by the food in his mouth, "Oh yeah... I just wanted to see if you've run into anyone who's changed your mind about this whole operation's objectives." Cal entered into Klan's mind, but he's still a fledgling pilot. No way she'll mention him, lest Ozma suspect that she's showing attachment to one of the pilots she was just bad-mouthing the day before.

"The chicklings are growing," she replied. Ozma liked her answer better than the one she gave yesterday. "Did you see any of the battle simulations from today?" Ozma asked. Klan shook her head. Lately, she's been spending her time figuring herself out because of Bobby's and Cal's advice. "I've seen some talent out there, I'll admit. Your patrol partner had himself a helluva fight just a few hours ago," Ozma said, "I think I'm gonna have you and your sister see just how good he really is. I'll have something worked out by tomorrow. Have a nice patrol shift!"

Klan walked out of the office happy with these developments. She's going to have an opportunity to put that smartass Cal in his place. She'll teach him the meaning of what it is to be a chickling pilot. Maybe then he'll treat her with a little more respect... but she remembers the end of their last patrol. He already does.

Klan's red Queadluun skimmed the rings of Coral-5 as she traveled to her patrol area. Just as she began to anticipate her next encounter with Cal, his RVF appeared out of nowhere and performed a corkscrew around her Queadluun. "Goooood morning, Commander!" Cal called out over the comm line. Klan's first question that came into mind was to ask how the heck he got so close to her without being detected, but she didn't want to be rude. Maybe she was just too into her thoughts to notice her radar telling her of the incoming craft.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," she replied. She couldn't help but smile at Cal's overexuberance today. He must be charged up from his victory a few hours ago. Klan decided not to tell him of Ozma's plans. She'd like to see him surprised, that's for sure. It was an opportunity to see how he fights with his back against the wall.

"You're in a good mood. Did you manage to sneak a pretty girl into your quarters last night?" she asked. She already knew the answer, but tried to play it off with a distracting question as if she didn't know about his successful simulation. Cal laughed and denied any such activity. "I got to whoop up on some poor saps from the Deimos. They didn't know what hit them," he confidently stated, "This 'chickling' has some kills under his wing already!" Cal blasted off at full throttle, daring Klan to follow him.

Klan took the bait and entered into pursuit of Cal's RVF. The Queadluun's engines had no problem catching up to the 171. Cal saw this and dipped into the rings to see if he could lose Klan. Maybe then, she'll start to show him a little bit of respect... as much respect as a 2nd lieutenant like him deserves from a lieutenant commander, anyways.

After about 45 seconds of maneuvering, Cal shot up out of the rings into a climb to see just how far ahead he was able to manage to get himself. He switched to Battroid and turned around to count the time it took for Klan to catch up. "One, two... Two and a half seconds!" he said to himself. Klan smiled at his development as a pilot, but she had a thing or three to show him in the skills department.

Having reached the center of their patrol zone, Klan ordered Cal to stay nearby and just leave his sensors on active scan. After several minutes of visual scanning, Klan could see Cal's battroid nodding to some kind of beat. "What the heck is he doing?" she asked herself. Yet another weird quirk of his is piquing her curiosity. She opened up the comm line to ask and had her ears bombarded by a seeming cacophony of loud musical instruments. "Wagner!" she yelled. Cal turned off the music. He knew he might be in trouble. "Listening to music while on duty is strictly forbidden! You know that!" she barked, "What would happen if someone needed to contact you about something important or you didn't hear your sensors alerting you of incoming enemies??"

Cal knew he'd upset her and frantically searched his mind for a way to make things right again. "You're right, I don't know what I was thinking," he replied, "I'm sorry." "I have to write you up for that infraction, you know," Klan said. Cal felt like crap because he'd screwed up and is going to be reprimanded for his mistake. "_I guess Lieutenant Prince is a little more lenient about it_," Cal thought to himself, referencing the instance before their battle simulation some hours earlier.

The next couple of hours were silent and seemed like forever. Cal wanted to talk to Klan, but he was concerned that she was upset with him again. All of a sudden, he realized that he's making concessions for Klan. His thoughts are focused on making sure she's in a good mood. What's up with this concern he's starting to show? Is it because he's found someone who knows what he's been going through since Marie's death, or is it because he sees her as a role model pilot? Or is it both? These questions begin to dog Cal as the two continue to spend time on duty together.

After returning from his patrol shift, Cal sat in the galley eating a meal while reading off of a tablet in front of him. He looked for information on Klan's past to find out what kind of service she's served and clues as to what happened to her in the past to make her so bitter. Although she's shown some lenience to him since they found out about each other's personal losses, Cal couldn't help but find out more about what makes her tick. After all, she's the pilot he now desires to match and/or beat some day. Cal quotes a famous proverb from The Art of War. "Know your enemy," he thinks to himself as he continues to read on with a grin on his face.

Little does he know that Klan has the same ideas, despite being confident in her ability to defeat him in a dogfight. Ozma arranged for her and her sister to take on Team Pyrios the following day. The news was more than welcomed by Klan and she decided to spend a little extra time giving her Queadluun some tender loving care. She needed to show her best, and no freak mechanical failures were going to get in her way.

That night, Lieutenant Prince informed his team of their upcoming match. "They won't tell me who we're up against, but my guess is that it's going to be Skull pilots. This is going to be our chance to show those guys that we can stand our ground against them," he said. Cal and Kyung were close to retiring for the night and the two talked incessantly about the sortie. Cal felt like he had to tell Kyung of his mistake, since nobody seemed to point it out yet. "Kyung, I want you to promise me you'll exercise more patience out there. You got yourself shot because you couldn't keep it together long enough for one of us to help you out," Cal said. Kyung had already beat himself up over it a bit, so he wasn't very verbose in his response over it. "I know, Lieutenant. I know. I'll definitely keep that in mind out there tomorrow," he responded.

The next day brought the biggest opportunity to date for Team Pyrios. After easily dispatching the pilots of Team Proteus two days before, their skills were being recognized and put to the test. The four pilots waited in their Valkyries just outside of the engagement zone. Cal was playing his rock music over the team's comm lines to help get everyone charged up. Seems like they've started using it as a superstition since it brought them victory last time.

Ozma entered the battlefield onboard Kanaria's Monster. He had set up an observation station in one of the empty seats inside of the cockpit, so Kanaria could pilot while he focused on observation of the battle. "Simulation 22, Team Pixie versus Team Pyrios. This will be a two-on-four match; same standard rules apply. Begin!" Ozma barked out over the open comm lines.

Cal shut his music off and Team Pyrios entered the engagement area. Lieutenant Prince opened up with the battle strategy, "Listen up! I've heard that Team Pixie is as tough as they come. I don't know who the pilots are, but that name is probably used to throw off your expectations. No mistakes while flying, **please**. These pilots will eat you alive the very second you screw up. If we can work well as a team, we have a chance at taking these two pilots out. Good hunting, men!" The team acknowledged his words as they headed to the planet's rings in formation.

Hiding out somewhere amongst the ice and rock particles, Klan and Nene waited patiently for their prey to show themselves. "Nene, you can do whatever you want here, but leave that RVF alone. He's mine," she ordered with an evil grin. "Can I ask why you want to take him on alone?" Nene asked. "Let's just say he needs to be put in his place and I want to be the one who does it," Klan answered.

Nene had positioned herself to be able to see out of the debris field and turned off her flight systems, relying only on her eyes to spot the incoming fighter team. Like a hawk spotting its prey, she noticed an unusual source of dim light steadily moving across the field of debris. Looks like their targets have been seen. "Klan, let's go," she said, taking the lead through the rings.

Already, Team Pyrios was at a disadvantage. They'd been seen and have no idea where their enemy is. Although his sensors hadn't detected anything yet, Cal's pilot instincts were telling him that something bad was about to happen. He rolled over to get a visual spot check on the debris field passing by below the team's formation just in time to see the muzzle flashes of their enemies already firing upon them. Cal broke his formation before his teammates even knew what was going on. "Watch out!" he yelled as he banked away to avoid the incoming fire.

It was too late for Lieutenant Prince. He'd been hit by the barrage of paint rounds and was immediately disqualified. Cal, Ensign Carter, and Ensign Bae were already down a man and in the gunsights of two ace pilots. Carter and Bae skillfully weaved through the fire to join Cal on his escape route. "Okay guys, follow me," he ordered. Cal's two wingmates closed formation and followed Cal in to an attack posture. Three is more than two, so he decided that he would try to reduce their numbers through the attrition of gunfire.

The three pilots pulled into a dive towards their two enemies. Sensing the incoming move, Klan and Nene took refuge behind large particles to avoid the incoming fire. As they watched the formation move closer on their radar screens, they made their counter attack and reemerged into line of sight. The five fighters traded barrages of paint rounds, hoping that some would hit. Each pilot furiously weaved through the fire of their opponents to emerge unscathed.

As the two groups passed each other, Cal recognized the bright red Queadluun. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that he was locked in combat with the very pilot he sought to exceed. Klan and Nene entered pursuit of the fighters that had just passed through them. "Break formation!" Cal ordered as he split away from his two wingmen and went to hide in the debris field. As planned, Nene chose to pursue Carter and Bae while Klan followed Cal into the rings.

Nene moved in behind Ensign Bae's VF and proceeded to fire upon him when he entered gun zone. Ensign Carter swooped over Nene and put the Queadluun into her own gunsights. Ensign Bae fought with himself, trying to remain patient and trust that Ensign Carter would prevent him from being hit. The three fighters performed acrobatic maneuvers, following each other in a perfect line. This encounter may take awhile before anything is resolved. Ensign Carter's rounds were being effectively dodged by Nene and she just couldn't seem to get Nene to peel off of Ensign Bae's six.

The debris and particles in the area around Klan and Cal were covered in paint rounds. Frantic dogfighting kept adding to the mess, the longer it went on. Klan was hot on Cal's tail and he was doing everything he could to try to shake her. "Here, chicky chicky chicky," Klan called out over the open comm lines as she stalked her prey. Cal couldn't believe the audacity of Klan's taunts in the heat of battle. "You will take me seriously!" he said as he performed a rather gutsy counterattack. Using a large piece of rock as a springboard, he switched to battroid mode, reversed direction and headed back towards Klan to engage her in melee combat.

Klan was surprised at his move and reacted quickly to disarm Cal before he could get any shots off. Cal's gunpod drifted off out of his reach with a sweep of the Queadluun's arm. At this point, Cal is completely on the defensive, unable to fire on Klan. As Klan reached for his arms to hold him in place, he reacted by knocking her arms up, used his verniers to spin the battroid around and delivered a roundhouse kick to Klan's chest. The red Queadluun slammed into a huge rock, and Klan struggled to regain control of her power armor. The shock was enough time for Cal to grab his gunpod and open fire on Klan as she fought to remove herself from the impression she made into the rock.

She was successful in freeing herself just as the paint rounds from Cal splattered on the impression she left behind. Cal's window of opportunity to attack had closed, and he transformed back into fighter mode to speed away, dodging Klan's paint rounds. Klan had put a huge grin on her face as she continued to pursue her target. She's enjoying the fact that Cal is giving her a good fight.

Nene was still sandwiched between Ensigns Carter and Bae and needed to resolve the conflict soon, or risk being hit by a lucky shot from Ensign Carter. "Enough playing around," she told herself as she put her game face on. She waited for Ensign Bae to make his first mistake so she could take him out and begin her focus on Ensign Carter.

Ensign Bae had done well this far to not lose his patience, but he was still an inexperienced pilot. Unknowingly, he made a move that Nene was able to identify the moment he started to break his current route. "Gotcha!" she said to herself as she locked her target and fired. The red paint rounds hit Ensign Bae on the left engine and rear fuselage. "Pyrios 2, you're out!" Ozma yelled over the comm.

Nene broke into the debris field to try to get the drop on her pursuer. Ensign Carter blindly followed her target in. Using her Queadluun's superior agility to maneuver around the rocks, Nene tried to coax her pursuer into executing the same moves with an inferior machine and far less flying experience. Nene's gambit worked as Ensign Carter had to switch to GERWALK to avoid slamming her Valkyrie into a large chunk of rock. The sudden deceleration gave Nene plenty of time to loop around and paint her target with several rounds on the top of the fuselage. "A bunch of fledglings," she chuckled to herself. She sped off to see how her sister was doing.

As Nene approached Klan's position, she could see Cal's RVF holding his own against her sister. It became clear to her why Klan chose to single him out. Following her sister's orders, she remained out of combat range and only chose to observe. Ozma opened up a line to Nene to ask her the reason for her hesitation to help her wingmate. "Nene, why aren't you engaging?" he asked. "Klan ordered me to leave the RVF for herself. I guess she knew what she was doing. I'm surprised she hasn't put him down already," Nene responded. Ozma started to understand what was going on. He acknowledged Nene and closed the channel.

"It looks like Klan has found someone to occupy her attention," Ozma said to Kanaria. She was already smiling at these developments. "Is this the pilot you've had her patrolling with the last few days?" Kanaria asked. "Yup. I had originally planned on pairing her with him as punishment for her lack of insight into the mission's objectives, but it looks like we've found ourselves something of a diamond in the rough," Ozma replied. He remembered his encounter with Cal on the base a couple of weeks ago. At the time, he didn't think much of the fledgling pilot, but there was something that he detected in Cal... confidence. It goes a long way as a pilot.

Cal began to realize that this fight was not going to go his way if he didn't do something drastic. It's time to put the flashbangs to use. Cal tried to formulate a plan quickly before he was overwhelmed by Klan's assault. He decided to leave the debris field and try to draw Klan into the effective range of a dumbfire flashbang, hoping she doesn't see it. Unfortunately, Klan reacted very quickly to his decision to climb out of the field and intercepted his route, blocking his escape path. Cal had no choice but to engage in a melee struggle with Klan. He transformed to battroid to defend himself once again with physical attacks.

Whenever she's engaged in melee combat, her first instinct is to attempt to disarm her target and force the pilot to do something desperate, leading to a mistake. She goes after his gunpod again, successfully wresting it out of Cal's battroid's hand. She tosses the gunpod aside as she prepares to move in for the kill. She opens fire on Cal and he is forced to try to block the incoming fire with the shield on his arm. At this point, he has no choice but to fling a flashbang at Klan and hope that it disables her senses long enough for him to recover his gunpod.

As he whips around into fighter mode, he leaves the flashbang behind while he speeds away. Klan, who was still moving towards Cal to apply the pressure, notices the small metallic particle floating towards her. Her pilot instincts tell her that there's something not right and she closes her eyes as she sees the shell break to reveal the surprise inside. Her helmet radio begins to fill her ears with unbearable noise, but she's able to squint through the light just enough to see Cal make a break for his gunpod. "Oh, no you don't!" Klan yells as she struggles to target the area in front of the gunpod.

Cal's zealous pursuit of his gunpod becomes an extremely dangerous gambit. Reaching for the gunpod, he anticipates his next move, not expecting any incoming fire for at least another second or so. Just as he is about to grab the handle, Cal's arm is hit by red paint rounds. He turns just in time to see more rounds heading his direction. The rounds reach their target, covering the front of his battroid with red paint.

"Pyrios 3, you're out! Team Pixie is the winner!" Ozma announced. Ozma sat back in his chair after having been sitting on its edge for the last part of the fight. Even his blood was boiling from the intensity of the fight. On the Quarter's bridge, the cheerleading section consoled Jen of the loss. Once again, she vehemently denied any connection to Cal, shooing off her harassers.

Cal sat motionless in his cockpit while his battroid floated aimlessly through space. He was so close to defeating Klan, but yet so far away. He wasn't going to hear the end of it from her. Like clockwork, Klan opened up the comm lines to Cal to gloat. "Still a chickling," she said in a taunting voice. Cal worked to get his pride under control. He realized he just spent quite a long time locked in battle with one of the best pilots in the NUNS and was just barely defeated. Cal turned back to the viewscreen to respond to Klan. "I may be a chickling, but I almost had you," he replied.

Klan was shocked at the audacity of his statement. She knew inside that she did have a hard time dealing with Cal, but she was not about to give him any encouraging words. "Almost had ME? You never had a chance," she replied. Cal scoffed at Klan's words and left the battle area to rejoin his teammates waiting on the sidelines. Klan realized she slightly admired his resilience in battle. This guy has talent.

On the Azusa's galley, Cal sat alone at a table reading up on the technical specifications of his RVF and the Queadluun Rhea. "It's no wonder I can't keep up with her. The 171 just doesn't have the structural strength to pull the kind of maneuvers it takes to match that machine's abilities. If my machine is inferior, I'd have to outpilot her. If I can't outpilot her, I'll have to outsmart her," he says to himself as he begins to think of a way to beat his new nemesis.

Just as he begins to formulate his plans, the rest of Team Pyrios dropped their lunch trays next to Cal and cheered at him. "That was an amazing fight!" Kyung exclaimed. "You took on the Nephilim and gave her a real run for her money," Theresa said. Frank Prince was a little jealous of Cal's success. "I bet they're really giving you a good look at joining their squadron after that battle," he said while slapping Cal on the back. "I only wish I didn't get shot down so soon into the fight," Frank continued.

Although Cal was a bit disappointed that he lost, his teammates' words helped to cheer him up a bit. At least they recognized his accomplishments, unlike a certain Meltrandi pilot he knows...


	8. Showdown

The next day, Klan sat at her patrol point, waiting for Cal to show up. "He'd better not be late again. I'll bet he's mortified beyond belief to show his face again," she mumbled to herself. A few moments of silence was broken by the radio crackling Cal's voice, "Bang, you're dead." Confused by the statement, Klan turned around to see Cal forming a gun with his battroid's hand and pointing it at the back of her Queadluun.

"How did you--?" she began to ask. Then she remembered her conversation with Ozma after she returned from the simulation yesterday. "_He's still a test pilot. NUNS assigned him to test out some new gadgets to increase the survivability of the RVF's, since they seem to perform so weakly in battle. That flashbang was one of the many tricks he has hiding up his sleeve_," Ozma told her. Klan decided to keep an open mind around Cal, considering the surprises he may be able to conjure up.

"I heard you still do test piloting. Why didn't you tell me earlier that you were still doing testing, despite being in the NUNS now?" Klan asked Cal. "Because it was classified," he responded, "Now that the cat's out of the bag, I guess I can't continue the charade anymore." "Well, what other little tricks do you have in that bag of yours?" Klan asked. Cal refused to give his tactics away, "You're a Lieutenant Commander, you can read about em if you have the security clearance."

Klan was taken aback at the audacity of his statement, but realized that he was doing the right thing in not talking about classified information over communications lines. She needs to watch her back if she gets into another simulation with Cal. Who knows what he's capable of? Especially seeing as how he was somehow able to mask his EM and fold signatures from her sensors and sneak up on her just now.

The two continued to talk trash to each other as they performed their patrol rounds. "So, the fledgling thinks he's got what it takes to fly with the big boys, doesn't he?" Klan taunted. "You know I almost had you a couple of times. I just need a more agile machine. I'm starting to feel the limitations of the 171. I bet if I had one of those shiny Queadluuns, I might whoop on you a bit," Cal replied. Klan took this as a direct challenge on her skills as a pilot. "Oh really? Then you are gonna need to do some serious growing to fit in one of these," Klan replied.

Cal became a bit silent as he thought about Klan's words. She noticed his silence and inquired as to why he couldn't come up with a retort. "What's wrong? You afraid now?" Klan asked. "Actually, yes," Cal replied, "Those macronization chambers scare the shit out of me and I don't know why," he continued, "Just the thought of having my DNA broken down and reconstructed by a machine... I don't know how people, especially Zentrans, handle it."

"I would love to get into a Queadluun some day and be able to experience it firsthand. I've had a lot of respect for those machines since I first saw one on a documentary as a child. I was amazed at how superior it was compared to the male power armor suits and to the VF-1s of the first Space War. It's no surprise it's still around today, despite the VF-25's slight superiority now. It says a lot about a weapon of war when it continues to remain effective over multiple decades," Cal said, giving a bit of insight into his love of the tools of war.

Klan admired Cal's knowledge and respect of the weapons her people use. However, she was more intrigued by Cal's illogical fear of macronization. "I've used macronization all my life and I never gave a second thought to any of the dangers that the process has. I haven't heard of anything bad happening to anyone, besides small changes in appearance," Klan said. She didn't want to tell him of the changes she goes through when changing into her miclone form; afraid that she'd stoke his fears of macronization. Maybe his fear wasn't _completely_ uncalled for.

"Well, I don't want to hear any excuses from you about losing yesterday," she said with a grin. "They're not excuses, they're reasons!" Cal replied. Klan continued to egg him on about the loss. After a couple of minutes of exchanging taunts, Cal threw up his hands in the cockpit. "Okay, you know what? How about we do it again? Let's fight one on one and I'll show you that this 'chickling' doesn't take things lying down!" he exclaimed. "I will make you eat those words," Klan replied, "I accept your challenge."

The rest of the patrol shift was basically the two pilots trying to one-up each other aeronautically and trading intimidating stares at each other. Challenging taunts traveled back and forth over the comm lines as the they tried to charge each other up for the match.

On the Macross Quarter's bridge, Monica caught wind of the chatter between the two challengers. The masters of gossip began to spread word of the impending showdown. Word of the fight disseminated amongst the crew of the Quarter and eventually reached the ears of the personnel in the rest of the fleet. The upcoming heavyweight title bout was sure to get a lot of attention.

In the Azusa's galley, Cal began to wonder why the maintenance technicians were cheering at him and giving him words of encouragement. This whole ordeal has made him into something of a semi-celebrity amongst the NUNS soldiers. His teammates joined him for lunch and told him about how they heard about the duel. "Everyone on the ship is rooting for you, Cal! We hope you can defeat the Nephilim and bring recognition to the Azusa," Kyung emphatically said. Other soldiers overheard Kyung's words of encouragement and began to gather around Cal's table to throw in their two cents.

On one side, several soldiers began taking bets on the outcome of the fight. Cal became annoyed by the excessive noise around him. He politely got up, bid everyone goodbye, and left the galley. The shouting and arguing continued to rage on behind him as he exited the room. Maybe now was a good time to sleep, since Cal was not going to get a moment's peace anywhere else. It was unbelievable that there was such a big deal being made about two pilots who just want to see who's the best between them.

Klan had the same ideas as Cal. She didn't have time to deal with the commercializing of the duel and opted to get sleep instead of confronting her shipmates about it. As was the habit of her mind when going to sleep, an image of Michael appeared when she closed her eyes. Going to bed reminded her of the long nights she spent wide awake dwelling on her memories of him for the past few months. She suddenly realized that her attention has been solely focused on keeping Cal in check for the last couple of days. She feared that her desire to assert herself as a superior pilot is turning into an obsession. Because of her distractions, she has not been feeling so alone anymore without Michael somewhere nearby. She cautiously accepts that maybe this is a healthy development for her to get back on the right foot emotionally.

Alto sat in the cockpit of his VF-25 only with his thoughts in his head as he performed his scheduled patrol duty. His mind drifted off to memories of his experiences with Ranka and Sheryl and how he's managed to get this far without completely losing his mind. His most recent mental images of the two are when he parted with them on the pier just before the Quarter left the planet. He suddenly realized that he had not yet read what was in Sheryl's envelope. Even though he is tough on her as a self defense from her mind games, he still knows that he cares enough to be concerned about what she has to say. He waits for the day when he can fully trust the words that come out of her mouth and take them at face value. He's tired of having to translate her words into what it is that she really means. Alto promises himself that he will read the letter at his first opportunity.

Ozma finally has some time to himself. Having made arrangements for the big duel tomorrow, he decides to get to work on his promise to Cathy. Being a commander has its benefits... a full sized-quarters to do as he wishes. The kitchenette had the proper tools for him to practice his pineapple cake and he slaved away on his first concoction. Ranka's custom CD played in the background as his thoughts remained on the two ladies who mattered most to him.

Luca sat in his quarters sifting through the huge box of cookies Nanase gave him. He picked out the best-looking cookie of each type and gently set them up leaning against the wall on the shelf near his bed. He thought back to the warmth and love that he feels from Nanase when they're close together. He gazed intently on the two cookies that represented him and Nanase. He had purposely placed them facing each other as if they were locked in an everlasting kiss. Having never been in a relationship with a girl before, he doesn't fully understand how lucky he really is to have such a caring person to call his own. Hopefully, he won't have to experience another relationship that puts Nanase in a sort of perspective. He'll be fine just staying with her.

Kanaria was fast asleep in her quarters. She embraced the picture she had of her with her son and husband in her arms as she slept. Looks like someone had trouble with their homesickness already, but she'll be fine when she wakes up in the morning.

Captain Wilder and Monica Lang were the only two on the bridge during this shift. The two shared thoughtful words with each other over two cups of hot tea. Even though the rest of the bridge crew encouraged them to get closer together, they remained loving friends. Their companionship on nights like this was all they needed to get by... for now.

Jen Wentz lay in her bed wondering what the future held for her. The way things were going, she may find herself serving on the same ship as Cal. When she and Cal spent the night together before they left Aimo, she had not imagined that they would see each other again. Her seemingly clean break from Cal was beginning to look like it wasn't a break at all. How is she going to behave around him if he transfers onto the Quarter? Why does she find herself spending so much time with Bobby on and off duty? Is she getting desperate to find someone to call her own now?

Eight hours or so later, the mood of the soldiers in the fleet borders on hysteria in anticipation for the big bout about to start. Cal had spent some of his night playing with his VF models trying out new maneuvering techniques to help him out-pilot his upcoming opponent. He also finished reading the manuals of the countermeasures systems he was supposed to be testing all this time. After conferring with the team mechanic, he decided to install the holographic projector on the hardpoint closest to the fuselage. To counterbalance the load, he had the mechanic rig up a missile pack full of scrap metal and attach it to the other side. This was a huge chance Cal was taking by adding on that weight. It was surely going to slow him down if he needed to make high-speed maneuvers.

Since technicians had figured out a way to equip the RVF-171EX with a shield for the GERWALK and battroid's left arm, the loadout weight has changed somewhat. Cal briefly considered having it removed to offset the added weight of his loadout, but his love of melee combat would not allow him go into space without one.

Flying in a holding pattern around the perimeter of the engagement area, Cal's heart was pounding in his chest. This event was definitely going to be huge in his life if he can manage to pull out the win. His mind wanders to the facts about the physical limitations that his RVF has when compared to the capabilities of the Queadluun Rhea. There's no way he's going to be able to win a fight in empty space. He'll have to use the debris in the planet's rings to keep Klan at bay.

The mood in Klan's Queadluun was a confident one. She couldn't wait to mess up Cal's RVF with some paint rounds. "His RVF is going to be dripping wet with paint by the time I'm done with him," she laughs to herself.

All eyes remained glued to the nearest display screen showing the duel. Viewing parties gathered around the big screens located in the galley of each carrier and cruiser. The event was truly turning into a spectacle... perhaps too much so for a military operation in progress in what could be considered hostile territory.

The hangar in the Quarter was virtually deserted, as most of the personnel had gathered in the pilot briefing room to watch the fight. All of the pilots, minus Ozma and Kanaria, cheered on their wingmate.

Kanaria's Monster slowly floated into the engagement area, ready for Ozma to announce the beginning of the duel. The battle zone was greatly reduced in size, to facilitate the smaller complement of fighters being involved. The two contestants drifted just outside of each other's sensor range. No doubt, they would use the debris to conceal their positions until they run into each other.

"Special Simulation; Skull 5 versus Helios 14. Last man standing, no missiles, only fuselage hits will count. Begin!" Ozma announced. The two fighters dipped into the rings of Coral-5 to begin their game of cat and mouse.

Cal decided to leave his music playing in his cockpit to keep him alert and charged up. He repeated his strategy to himself so he would be less likely to deviate from his plan, "Keep her in melee range, do not engage her in open space, stay patient." Cal began to jam his EM and fold signatures to conceal his position as best as possible. The waiting game began. Each pilot carefully searched the areas around them, moving around in leaps. The first attack is always the most important one, and neither pilot was willing to compromise that advantage by trying anything stupid.

Cal's sensitive radome would serve as his trump card. He remained attentively fixed on the readouts on his console, while keeping an eye out of the canopy for any visual cues of movement. He continuously cycled through sensor modes to catch any anomalies. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see fine dust particles ejecting from the tight orbits of the rings. Only engine exhaust would cause this phenomenon. Cal tightened the sensor sweep onto that area, programming the radome to detect changes in particle densities above and below the rings. He decided to forego conventional propulsion until he could find his target. He couldn't afford to allow Klan to see the dust he'd be kicking up by boosting around. Good ol' foot power was going to be his propulsion method.

On Klan's end, she figured he'd be sneakier than usual. His little stunt on their last patrol mission taught her that valuable lesson. Her sensors will not be as reliable, so it's up to her eyes and her instincts to bring her victory. Unknowingly, she's using her engines to boost around and it's kicking up dust all around her. An oversight that may cost her that initial first shot.

Cal could see the ejections getting closer to him. It was time to plan his ambush. He found the largest debris particle nearby and hid himself on the far side, staying as close to it as he possibly could. His battroid held its gunpod close to its chest, waiting for the first hint of movement to fire upon. By now, Cal's heart was racing and his breathing became heavy in anticipation of the first contact. He turned his music down to focus.

Klan's instincts began to warn her of an impending attack and she stopped moving forward until she was sure the area was secure. Cal's sensors were picking up the acceleration of dust particles being caused by engine exhaust. The blob on the sensor screen remained motionless, though. "Come on, come on," Cal said to himself. He suspected she might know he was there. It's time for a quick change of plans...

Klan opened up the comm line to Cal, "I can smell your fear. You're close, chickling." Cal had to distract Klan, or she'd fire on him the very moment he emerged from behind the rock. He released the magnetic coupling on one of his flashbangs and kicked the battroids leg to the side to sling it away from his position. The timer on the flashbang expired and detonated. Klan reacted to the movement and aimed at the flash, but quickly realized it was a diversionary tactic. The very same instant the flashbang detonated, Cal emerged from behind the rock, sailed over Klan's head, and opened fire as he passed over. Klan reacted by using her arms to block the paint rounds from hitting the body of her Queadluun. As Cal's inertia caused him to lose line of sight, he transformed into a fighter to speed away and hope that he can duck back into the rings undetected.

Unfortunately, Klan was as aggressive as she always is and immediately entered pursuit of the fleeing RVF. "You're not getting away that easily!" she said. Cal quickly released two more flares to conceal his path. Klan's sharp eyes noticed the two projectiles and steered around them to avoid any detrimental effects. Cal was not in a good position and he needed to do something before she locked onto his six. He knew that once that happened, it was going to be impossible to shake her.

In a surprising move, Cal climbed away from the rings for a moment, pulled a tight loop and thrust himself downwards towards the pursuing Klan. The RVF groaned as the airframe struggled to handle the intense G-forces he just pulled with the maneuver. Klan did not expect such a bold counterattack, but was ready to punish Cal for it. She opened fire with both of her arm-mounted guns. Cal knew this was going to be a dangerous move and positioned his battroid to reduce its profile behind the shield attached to his left arm, while he fired upon Klan with the gunpod in right hand.

"Gyeaahhh!!" Cal yelled while charging towards the Queadluun. Several paint rounds impacted directly on the RVF's shield as Cal accelerated towards Klan in a falling motion. Klan had to dodge Cal's shots the old fashioned way using her agile vernier thrusters and engine. Cal's plan was to not only get shots off towards Klan, but he intended on bashing her with his shield. Cal seemed to enjoy the melee combat, so he made precautions to prevent being disarmed again.

The two ships bashed into each other with an awful force; both of them falling back into Coral-5's rings. Spectators groaned as they could almost feel the impact from where they stood. Klan boosted her engines to arrest the fall and force Cal's RVF out of melee range so she could fire upon him again. She succeeded in separating the two ships momentarily, but Cal was not about to allow her to aim at him. He boosted towards her again, flipping over and placing two kicks to her chest, further accelerating her Queadluun towards the debris field.

The Queadluun bounced off of the first rock particle it hit, momentarily stunning the pilot. Klan frantically opened fire, hoping to scare Cal off before he could get a good shot at her. Her desperation shots came very close to hitting Cal and he was forced to reposition before firing. This was more than enough time for her to escape the situation. "You're a lucky one!" Cal yelled in frustration to his missed opportunity. Perhaps it was time for Klan to out-pilot him through the debris field so she could turn the tables on him.

Klan dove into the debris field, expecting Cal to follow her, but he opted to stay back. He knew that she'd be able to outmaneuver him, especially with the additional weight he was carrying. Cal dove into the rings to set up another ambush. His key to victory had to be to keep her in melee range and hope to stun her long enough to plant the paint rounds on her.

"Dammit!" Klan clicked her tongue as she realized Cal wouldn't follow. She realizes that he is fierce at close range and her only chance to win then is to continue to attempt to disarm him. Once he's been separated from his gunpod, he won't be able to finish her off. Klan left the debris field to try to draw Cal out of his hiding place. She's depending on his impatience to give away his position, as most new pilots suffer from itchy trigger fingers.

The tempo of the fight died down for a couple of minutes while Klan cruised about one kilometer above the surface of the rings. She visually scanned the debris for any clues as to Cal's whereabouts. All over the fleet, soldiers remained attentively glued to display screens, cheering the fight on. On the bridge of the Quarter, even Jen had removed all inhibitions as she cheered Cal on. Unfortunately, the rest of the crew was cheering on their beloved Klan.

Ozma and Kanaria continued to watch the fevered fighting from the Monster. "Fights like this don't happen too often. It usually takes two young and talented pilots to lock in battle like this. It's almost like watching a married couple get into their first argument. Both have a lot to prove!" Kanaria scoffed at Ozma's terrible analogy. "If that's what you think being married is all about, then you're going to be divorced pretty quick," Kanaria stated. "No, I am just saying that-- Oh, nevermind. Forget I even said anything," Ozma replied, attempting to defend himself. Kanaria smiled and glued her attention back to watching the fight.

Cal sat patiently in the safety of the debris field, watching Klan float overhead. "Here, chicky chicky chicky!" she called out to Cal. His mind raced as he tried to come up with a plan before the conditions changed. The only thing he could think of was to take a few potshots at Klan to see if he could lure her in closer and spring a trap. Klan noticed the muzzle flashes from Cal's gunpod as he squeezed off three-round bursts. She easily dodged the projectiles, but was nonetheless annoyed by Cal's unwillingness to take her on in an open setting. "Come out here and fight me... unless you're afraid of fighting a woman!" Klan taunted. Cal waited a few seconds before responding, "Being a woman has nothing to do with it. Remember, you're the ace and I'm the chickling. What are YOU afraid of?" Cal asked.

Klan's over-confidence in herself won the battle that raged on inside of her during those couple of minutes of cruising. Cal's challenge was just the straw that broke the camel's back. She moved towards the rings and targeted her entry point about 500 meters away from where Cal was shooting from. While she slowly made her way towards Cal's last known position, she stopped to assess the situation for a moment. As she passed over one of the larger particles, it suddenly began to quickly climb to her position. Cal must be pushing it from the other side.

Her best bet was to boost away from the debris out to open space again and let Cal expose himself with only the one boulder for him to use as cover. After traveling a few hundred meters away from the safety of the debris field, Cal knew his little trick was not going to work out well as long as Klan matched position on the other side of the rock, patiently waiting for him to make a move. He had no choice but to boost himself away from the rock before it was too late. "She's patient... I think the only way I'm going to win this is by instigating her into losing that patience."

Pushing off from the rock in battroid mode, Cal quickly switched to fighter mode and sped away, trying his best to conceal his move from Klan's line of sight. Klan saw the exhaust burst from the other side and moved into attack position to try to tag Cal before he disappeared into the rings again. Cal found himself briefly vulnerable to fire and released two more flashbangs to increase his odds of coming out of this one unscathed. Klan managed to angle herself away from the flashbangs to avoid being inundated with intense light. As she closed the distance, Cal released the missile pack full of scrap metal from under his wing, transformed into a battroid, and roundhouse kicked the package. The casing broke open and showered Klan with hundreds of shreds of metal. She instinctively raised her arms to protect herself, thereby taking away her ability to fire on Cal, and slightly obscuring her vision.

Cal predicted that reaction and reversed direction to engage Klan in melee combat once again, without fear of retaliation. The two mecha clashed together again with furious intensity. Klan had managed to grab Cal's right arm, which was carrying the gunpod, and turn it away so she won't be hit by it if he fires. She used her leg to sweep Cal's battroid from below and disorient him while she used her free hand to fire rounds off. Cal reacted quickly by switching to GERWALK, just as she fired. The new configuration shrunk the height of the RVF enough to duck underneath Klan's burst of rounds.

Cal opened the throttle with his GERWALK RVF pointing downwards, causing Klan's Queadluun to tumble overhead. She lost her grip on Cal's arm and the momentum caused her to spin in place for just a brief moment. Cal took advantage of the situation and opened fire after whipping around with his verniers. Klan sensed the opening and boosted away to get out of the line of fire. This was Cal's chance to get on her six and get some shots off.

He followed closely behind in fighter form, trying desperately to lock onto his target. Klan's Queadluun was difficult to follow at close range, so Cal throttled down a bit to increase the distance between them. This allowed Klan to dip into the debris field and conceal her position with the ice and rock particles. Several paint rounds splattered on the boulders as Klan flew into their cover.

Rather than continuing on her current course, Klan did a 180 and blasted back out of the cover of rocks and lunged to disarm Cal at melee range. "Oh, crap..." Cal said as he switched to battroid to engage the Queadluun. She succeeded in knocking the gunpod out of his hands, but Cal had taken care of that problem back in the hangar. A retractable steel tether brought the gunpod back into it's resting place on the side of his battroid's arm. Fortunately for Klan, it was not operable in that position and she maintained an ironclad grip on both of Cal's battroid's hands. The dogfight has momentarily turned into a bit of a wrestling match.

The two pilots strained with their controls, looking for an opportunity to overpower the other. Cal's biggest threat was the guns mounted on the Queadluun's arms. He struggled to keep her arms pointing outwards, while she tried to move her arms inwards to fire upon the defenseless battroid. Another fortunate thing for Cal was that the chest-mounted guns on the Queadluun were not armed with paint rounds. He only had to worry about the arm cannons. "What's the matter? Are you going to let a girl hold you down you like that?" Klan said with a noticeable strain in her voice as she struggled to apply more force to her controls.

The two pilots traded low kicks with each other as they attempted to change each others' orientations. Klan realized the advantage she had with her engines being more powerful than the RVF's while it's in battroid mode. There's no way he'd be able to out-thrust her like this. She used her verniers to turn the pair around and put Cal's back to the debris field. She then opened up to full throttle as she held on tightly to the battroid's hands.

The intense acceleration kept Cal pinned in front of the Queadluun. He tried firing his main engines to turn the pair of fighters to a different direction, but Klan's quick piloting maneuvers and agile thrusters kept them turned in the direction she wanted. Impact alarms sounded in Cal's cockpit, as the computers warned him of the incoming collision. "Shit!" Cal yelled. The 171 collided against the large rock with bone-crunching concussive force. Cal physically bounced in his chair from the shock. Klan pushed off of Cal's RVF and assumed her attack posture to deliver the final blow to the stunned pilot.

Cal's only chance was to use his final flashbangs to blind Klan. He kicked the battroid's legs upwards to propel the shell in between the two fighters. The quick fuse detonated and blinded both pilots, due to their close proximity to the flashbang. Klan, having already positioned her arms to fire upon Cal, pulled the trigger and hoped that her rounds would hit, despite not being able to see what she was firing at. Cal opened up his throttle out of desperation to get out of the way. The battroid's orientation actually spun the boulder around, giving him cover from Klan's assault.

The flashbang still affected both pilots' vision, but Cal could see just well enough to get the heck out of there before Klan corners him again. Melee is becoming less effective, as Klan quickly learns Cal's techniques. "I need to end this very soon or she's going to win," Cal thought to himself. He's running out of tricks and Klan is becoming more of a threat with each passing second. His main wildcard, the flashbangs, was no longer an option since he was now out of them.

Klan strained to regain the light sensitivity in her eyes as the flashbang's effects wore off. Only a slowly-rotating boulder remained in front of her with several paint rounds impacted on it. He got away again! Klan was beginning to get impatient as she growled into the comm line. This upstart chickling pilot is matching her skills at every turn, even though he needs to use his classified countermeasures to combat her on an even level. Still, though, her pride as an ace pilot and Zentraedi warrior was taking a beating the longer she remained in combat with him. Angrily, she sped off towards the direction her sensors told her Cal went.

After about 15 seconds, another large boulder began to lift out of the rings, apparently being pushed out by Cal and used as cover. Klan's sensor screen indicated a fighter hiding on the other side. Her patience had run out and she wasn't about to waste her time waiting for Cal to make his move anymore. "This trick again?? It's time to end this now!" Klan yelled out.

Klan sped past the boulder to plant her paint rounds on the battroid that was on the other side. She vectored herself to pass close by the boulder and fire on the RVF at point-blank range. Sure enough, there was the RVF in battroid mode, looking the other direction, as if he was expecting an attack from the other side. "Gotcha!" Klan said as she moved in for the kill. She placed her arm-mounted cannons right at the chest of the RVF, and pulled the trigger.

The battroid didn't even move as she fired several rounds into its chest. As she stopped firing, she realized that her shots had passed through the fighter! "What??" she exclaimed, trying to figure out what's going on. She noticed Cal's holographic projector carefully placed on the surface of the boulder. Her memory quickly flashed a picture of the projector and missile pack installed under his wings at the beginning of the fight. When she had first seen them, Klan thought that he was crazy for adding that weight. Cal's voice crackled over the comm line, "I am NOT a chickling." Just as she turned the Queadluun's torso around to see behind her, she was stopped by a the barrel of Cal's gunpod pointed directly at her face. Klan was not in a position to fire back and she gasped in anticipation of the gunfire.

Cal fired a single paint round directly at the faceplate of the Queadluun. The paint round hit its target, completely enveloping the sensor array. Klan's visual displays were obscured from the inside due to the inking. She could feel the Queadluun being pummeled by multiple rounds as the stinging bite of defeat fell over her darkened cockpit.

Almost instantly, Klan's cockpit was filled with the sound of heavy metal being played over the comm line. She reeled in reaction to her eardrums being pounded by the sonic assault. She used the Queadluun's hand to wipe away a portion of the paint so she could see what the heck Cal was doing.

Cal's battroid played the gunpod like a guitar and it was headbanging to the beat of the music. "Oh YEAHHHH!!!" Cal yelled out at the top of his voice on the comm lines. All of the viewing parties on the ships went absolutely nuts following the conclusion to the epic bout. The Azusa erupted in cheer for their darling pilot. Jen Wentz cheered and applauded for her so-called "man" to the backdrop of shocked silence from the bridge crew. The group of pilots and maintenance crew in the Quarter's hangar watched in amazement and disbelief that their wingmate was defeated by a nobody flying an RVF-171EX.

"That... was an incredible fight," Alto became the first to say amongst the Skull pilots. "Even Klan was on another level. She was just a little too aggressive and got outsmarted by him," he continued. Only a couple of voices chimed in with agreement. The rest of the crew slowly left the room in disappointment.

On Kanaria's monster, Ozma was impressed by what he saw. "Is it safe to assume that we've found one of our new pilots?" Kanaria asked. Ozma was a bit concerned by something, however. Kanaria could see it on his face as he looked in her direction to answer. "He's good, but I feel like there's something missing... I'm concerned about his penchant for bending the rules and his teamwork needs some improvement. I read Klan's patrol reports about his behavior. I'll have to consider it a bit more to make sure he'd fit in well," Ozma answered.

Klan was infuriated by Cal's gloating and scoffed as she flew away to return home. "I can't believe I let him beat me. I'm gonna make his life a living hell for this..." she promised to herself, "I will get my retaliation one way or another."


	9. Introspective

The Macross Quarter's hangar was not terribly lively as eyes were on Klan's Queadluun while it walked to its docking area. Most of the maintenance crews were standing clear from in front of the power armor, as if a red-hot plume of flames was ready to belch forth when the hatch opened. This wasn't quite the case, though. Klan opened the hatch, stumbled out of the Queadluun, and assessed the exterior of her machine. It was the appearance of her beloved fighter that tipped her off. You could swear that she was reacting to it as if she had a child who was beaten up at school by a bully.

The Queadluun looked like someone had vandalized it. The parts of it that weren't covered in dripping, orange paint showed extensive damage from dents and scratches. Jagged pieces of metal peeled away from the body, just waiting to snag something. The fierce melee combat with Cal's RVF and the intense maneuvering and fighting in the debris field took its toll on the body work.

The mechanics gawked at the condition their Queadluun was in, as well. In an effort to soothe Klan's about-to-burst temper, the technicians assured her that they would have repairs done by the next morning.

Klan couldn't answer the technicians' attempts to make her feel better. She just got beaten in a one-on-one match with an overly-cocky NUNS pilot. Klan dropped her helmet on the hangar deck and stormed off to the micronization chamber. The entire crew in the hangar seemed to exhale in unison, now that the Nephilim was gone. The technicians and mechanics dipped their heads back into whatever they were working on before Klan's Queadluun had entered the hangar.

Cal inspected the damage to his RVF after having been mobbed by hordes of pilots and crew when he first got out of the plane. Everyone had gotten the congratulations out of their systems and had more or less returned to work. Several mechanics and pilots could be heard still chattering about the duel in the background, while Cal made circles around his fighter. Like Klan's Queadluun, there was extensive physical damage to the armor, minus the new paint job her machine now carried.

He began to think to himself about the kind of nerve-wracking, teeth-grinding, butt-clenching combat it takes to do this amount of damage; despite never having fired an actual live round or missile! The only thing on his mind now was "When can we do this again?" He left the hangar in a charged up mood about facing Klan in friendly combat again some day.

The door to Ozma's office flew open to reveal a pissed-off Klan. She stormed in without even asking permission to enter and plopped down in the chair in front of Ozma, who was still in his flightsuit. "To what do I owe this uninvited intrusion, Lt. Commander?" Ozma smugly asked. "Did you see what he did to my power armor?! He trashed it! It wasn't enough to just hit me in the face with a purposely-aimed round. No, he hit me at least 10 more times while I was blinded; just to rub it in. AND THEN, he illegally filled the comm lines with music, if you want to call it that! His conduct is absolutely unacceptable and I demand that he be disciplined!" Klan yelled, slamming her fist on his desk. Some of Ozma's figurines and desk ornaments rattled or fell over from the shock.

"Your concerns are already being noted, Klan. I have also observed his cheeky behavior first-hand and read about it from your reports. I will make a decision soon," Ozma replied. Klan calmed down a little bit after his reply. Ozma stood up to pace a bit while he continued his conversation with Klan. "I'm going to change your patrol schedule," he said. "I don't think it would be wise to continue to pair you up with Lt. Wagner, considering your disapproval of his behavior. I'll let his superior officer deal with that; along with my recommendations, of course."

Klan was a bit surprised at Ozma's decision. For a split second, she thought that maybe she was blowing this whole thing out of proportion. When he's not acting like a jackass, Lt. Wagner is actually someone with whom she enjoyed serving patrol duty. He was even someone who she felt could understand the pain she's gone through in losing Michael. She then snapped out of her temporary state and continued the conversation, "May I ask why I was not made privy to the munitions that Lt. Wagner was allowed to carry with him into the simulation?" Ozma smiled upon hearing her question. "Klan, you know as well as I do that sometimes in combat, you run into something you've never seen before. It's up to the _good_ pilots to learn to deal with the unknown. For what it's worth, I thought you did extremely well!" Ozma replied.

Klan frowned at Ozma's words. "Please, Sir, do not patronize me. I failed to achieve victory. I let a nobody win a fight against me," she said, hanging her head in disappointment. Ozma couldn't believe he was hearing this from his squadron XO; one of the best pilots in the NUNS. Ozma slammed his hand on his desk and leaned into Klan. "Dammit, Klan, I watched you out there fighting with more intensity than I've ever seen from you before. I don't know what you and Lt. Wagner have going between each other, but it looked as if you were on a whole nother level. You know what I see in that kid? Someone who pushes you to fly harder, faster, more precise, and more effectively than you thought possible of yourself."

"Then how did I lose?!" Klan yelled back in response. "Because he remained patient," Ozma replied, "It took a _lot_ of luck, but more importantly, it took a lot of planning and execution on his part to even stay in the fight with you. I saw the previous dogfight you had with him yesterday, and it was very similar. He had to use classified weapons to fight on your level. I think that's a pretty damn big compliment to your skills, if you ask me." Klan looked away from Ozma's face. She knew he was right, but she didn't want to admit it. "Your pride is your biggest enemy, Klan. Be proud of who you are and what you've accomplished in your life, but don't be so proud that you think you can do _anything_," Ozma said, sitting back down in his chair, "Everyone looks up to you as a role model of a pilot. I am willing to put money down that even Wagner still sees you as his."

Klan thanked Ozma for giving her mind something to munch on for awhile. Again, it's those pesky miclones who still manage to push her warrior-like ways onto the next level, while at the same time teaching her the quality of humility. Her lesson was going to be difficult to learn and accept, but she will grow from it eventually.

Cal nervously walked the halls towards Commander Junzou's office near the hangars. Junzou sounded pissed when he paged Cal over the intercom. Cal knocked on the door and heard Commander Junzou give him permission to enter. Cal stood at attention and saluted. "Reporting as ordered, sir." Junzou nodded his head, as if to give him permission to have a seat. Cal accepted the offer and made himself comfortable in front of Junzou's desk.

Commander Junzou peered out into the hangar area through his window, holding his hands behind his back. "I just want to start out with a congratulations on your win today. Everyone on the ship is damn proud of you, son," he said. "Unfortunately, I'm concerned about your misconduct and how it reflects on this ship's reputation." Cal sunk into his seat and strained to swallow the baseball-sized lump in his throat. The temperature in the room seemed to rocket about 100 degrees hotter.

"Every once in awhile, I see hotshot pilots go through here, thinking that they are allowed life's extra benefits because they happen to know how to operate a flightstick a little better than the rest of them. Flying isn't just about getting the kill, it's about working as a teammate. It's about doing your duty without hesitation and it's also about respecting both your friends and your enemies," Junzou continued. "Enemies, sir?" Cal asked. "Enemies. Be they humanoid, or something else, they're still fighting to protect something that's important to them. If you are fortunate enough to kill your enemy, he'd expect you to allow him to die with dignity... like a _soldier_. His death is not something you make fun of or belittle. That soldier gave his life for something he felt was valuable enough to justify its sacrifice. That gesture alone is deserving of the respect of even _his_ enemies," Junzou said.

Cal was enlightened by the Commander's words. He slowly began to regret his childish behavior since he started flying again. Even before the descent operation, he was a real trash-talker when he was out flying. The NUNS is a different show from his days as a test pilot for Bell-Casse.

Junzou turned to sit down at his desk. "I wanted to try punitive correction with you, but with recommendations from Commander Lee of Skull Squadron, I'll just let you go with a stern warning. I wouldn't be surprised if he calls you up to join Skull Squadron, but it's my understanding that your conduct is not what he's looking for. I suggest you do something about it if you want to be a Skull pilot," he said, "Dismissed."

Cal got up and saluted. Just as he opened the door, Commander Junzou stopped him. "Lieutenant..." he said. Cal turned around with a "oh god, what is it now" look on his face. "On a more personal note, I suggest you apologize to Commander Klang. She's one of our best pilots, but more importantly, you don't want to be on her bad side," Junzou said with a smirk. "I think I know exactly what you mean, Sir," Cal replied. Cal left the room gritting his teeth as he remembered getting knocked to the ground in his battroid and having a gun pointed directly at him a few days ago because of her explosive temper. Nephilim, _indeed_.

Back in his quarters, Cal sat on his bed thinking about Commander Junzou's words of advice. He's damn lucky he wasn't spending the night in the brig or hand-washing all of the exterior surfaces on the Azusa's hull.

Ensign Kyung Bae entered the room, just returning from his patrol duty. "Hey, if it isn't the giant-killer! What's going on, champ?" "I just got back from Junzou's office," Cal said in a depressed tone. Kyung's amicable expression changed into a concerned one. "I went and made an fool out of myself and alienated one of the fleet's best pilots. The Commander was ready to put my ass to work spit-shining the shoes of every officer onboard because of it," Cal continued.

"I think you deserved to gloat a little bit," Kyung said. "That's not really the point, dude. I fly and fight with no respect for my opponents," Cal said, "If I'm not careful, it may cost me my career; or even worse, mine or a wingmate's life." Kyung stopped what he was doing to think about what Cal said. "That shit is kinda deep," he replied, "I have noticed some arrogance in your behavior, but not enough to really bother me. Maybe I have the wrong impression of the NUNS too." Cal had to clarify himself a bit more, "The officers are in their positions because they warrant the skill and respect of the rank. The NUNS has no room for showboaters... I'll bet you can look at all of the officers in this fleet and all of them behave like gentlemen and ladies of the military. Right now, I don't deserve those ranks and I certainly don't deserve the recognition I have been getting for beating Commander Klang in a duel."

Cal went to sleep with a lot on his mind. He's going to have to figure out how to leave his ego at the door and serve his post with distinction. Only when he's earned the respect of his fellow pilots and soldiers can he afford to have a little fun with them. "_NUNS officers aren't just complete robots; I'm sure they have fun with each other sometimes too_," Cal thinks to himself. He also begins to think of a way to approach Klan to apologize. Unfortunately, his experience with her and the stories he's been told of her temper and ferocity make it difficult to work up the courage to even speak to her again.

Back on Aimo, the city of Laplamiz was quickly being annexed by construction sites popping up all around the city limits. Some miles away, several Zentraedi warships in the water were moored offshore, with dropships ferrying personnel back and forth between the ships and the new base under construction. An enormous tent structure stood alone in between several buildings under construction around the base. NUNS vehicles were neatly parked outside, along with several rows of Queadluun and Nousjadeul power armor units.

Inside, Cathy Glass directed a meeting involving NUNS personnel and Zentraedi officers from the newly-arrived fleet. Fleet Commander Raozj sat at one end of the table, surrounded by his immediate subordinates. A smaller table was set up on top of the main table, to accommodate the micron NUNS officers. A projector was set up to magnify Cathy's image for the Zentraedi to see while she spoke.

"Fleet Commander Raozj, we wanted to thank you for submitting this report as quickly as possible. NUNS HQ has reviewed it and we find most of your plans to be acceptable. We did have a couple of questions for you, if you don't mind," Cathy said. Raozj nodded in response. "Our first concern is that of utmost importance. Our available resources are extremely limited as of this point. We want to do what we can to help facilitate your assimilation into our colony, but we are definitely going to need a lot of help from you and your men," Cathy said.

Raozj responded with confidence, "We are ready to assist our miclone friends in any way we can." His subordinates all nodded in agreement. Cathy continued with her cross-examination, "Gentlemen, please note that what I am about to tell you is classified." The NUNS officers nodded as Cathy looked at them for approval. The projection changed to a diagram of the Coral system, animated to magnify the current location of the Macross Quarter fleet in orbit around Coral-5. "We are currently working to remedy this problem by prospecting the Kihnes Asteroid Belt for resources. Our sensors are being obscured by their high EM signatures, which means that the asteroid belt contains high concentrations of metals. We intend to begin harvesting these resources as soon as we deem the area to be clear of any hostile threats," Cathy continued.

The projector changed to show looping footage of Frontier's conflicts with the Vajra swarm and Macross Galaxy. "As you have read in our reports, our battle with the Galaxy-controlled Vajra swarm and the Galaxy's military forces themselves resulted in victory on our part and the subsequent colonization of this planet. However, City Galaxy's whereabouts are still unknown and we have reason to believe that the colony ship could still be located in this system... most likely hiding somewhere in the Kihnes Asteroid Belt," Cathy reported. Raozj and his command staff murmured amongst each other at the report.

Cathy turned off the visual aid and the projection returned its focus on her. "Our needs from your fleet are twofold. We need your help domestically with planetary security and construction. We also need help securing the system; most notably, the Kihnes Asteroid Belt," Cathy said as she waited for Raozj and his staff to deliberate.

The enormous Zentraedi commander turned back to Cathy to answer. "Your requests are far from unreasonable. We will submit a report outlining our deployment strategies as soon as you can get us a chart with your personnel needs," he said. Cathy nodded at the Commander's request.

"Our next order of business, gentlemen, is your plans to build a factory to create new power armor units. We understand your need to replenish your lost fighters, but until we secure a reliable supply of resources, we cannot allow your factory to enter full production. You're free to develop prototypes and parts, but we just can't support mass production at this time," Cathy said. Raozj nodded, "Acknowledged."

"Okay, and finally, your assimilation into the NUNS... Your fleet will be absorbed into NUNS as soon as we are done cataloguing and processing your ships and personnel. All of your soldiers will be given the option to become civilians or remain in the service with comparable ranks after evaluation from our senior staff. We require that each soldier reads up on a copy of the Frontier Government's constitution and bill of rights, and the NUNS serviceman's manual," Cathy said. She paused for a moment to let her words set in with the Zentrans.

"I cannot stress to you how important it is that you understand what it is we truly stand for here on Aimo," Cathy continued, "We want each and every citizen, regardless of their race, to enjoy the fruits of liberty and freedom. Please do not assume that because the city of Laplamiz is intended for Zentraedi to live in, that we intend to segregate your people from ours. You are free to choose to miclone yourselves and live with the Humans, and Humans are free to choose to macronize themselves and live with Zentrans. Do you have any questions, Commander?"

Raozj and his staff deliberated for a minute. The Fleet Commander stood up and answered, "No, Ma'am. I speak for all of us when I say that we're delighted to be able to finally live with the ability to make our own choices. We and our ancestors have spent our entire lives living in space. The opportunity to live _en terra _with our miclone compatriots comes with our deepest blessings." The Zentraedi command staff chimed in with "hear hear"s.

Cathy started to walk towards the table with the other officers sitting at it and remembered her conversation with Ranka a few days before. "Oh! Commander? I almost forgot! I take it you and your men are fans of Ranka Mei Lee?" The command staff began to chatter with excitement. "We're making arrangements to have her perform a concert just for you and your men to welcome you to Aimo. She's already agreed to perform and we just need to work out the logistics to make it happen!" Cathy declared.

Raozj's command staff cheered in excitement. Even the Fleet Commander smiled at the news. Cathy was pleased at their reaction to her announcement. The feeling of job satisfaction swelled within her as she turned to leave with the other NUNS officers.

Cathy's route back to Frontier City took her straight through Laplamiz. From what she could see, she made mental notes of the subtle differences in the way the Zentraedi live their lives as civilians. Small crowds of Zentrans bustled about the town, going about their business as they have been doing since the Macross Frontier colonization fleet launched many years ago. Their family structures and traditions were among the many nuances that made them slightly different than their Human counterparts, but the basic humanitarian principles still remained.

Cathy began to fear that anti-Zentraedi sentiment could rise because of the already-limited supply of resources now needing to be stretched thinner to help accommodate the new Zentran citizens joining the colony. The citizens of Macross Frontier had no problems living in symbiosis with the Zentrans who chose to live in their natural state, but now that supplies were starting to run scarce, the innate selfishness and desire for self-preservation in Humans could create problems down the road. Cathy looks up to the sky, as if she was looking at Ozma millions of miles away. "I hope they can finish their operations quickly," she worriedly says to herself.

Cal's RVF-171EX cruised over the rings of Coral-5, heading to his patrol rendezvous point. The moment of truth is nigh, as he thinks over how he's going to make things up to Klan. As he approaches the proper coordinates, he can see the familiar sawtooth-delta shape of a VF-171EX floating in space to the backdrop of the orange glow of the nearby planet. "Oh no..." Cal said to himself, as he realized that Klan would not be serving patrol duty with him this time. He had to do something or he'd miss his opportunity to make things right.

Cal hailed the Azusa's FCO, "This is Helios 14 to Azusa Control." "Go ahead, Helios 14," the tower crackled over the radio. "I need to know if Skull 5 was slated to return to patrol duty with me," Cal requested. The radio remained silent for a moment. "Helios 14, I don't have that information. I will have to speak with Macross Quarter's FCO. Please stand by," the radio replied.

Cal waited patiently for the tower to respond to his request. After a couple of minutes, the radio channel opened again, "Helios 14, the Quarter's tower tells me that Skull 5 is currently serving patrol duty in another sector." "Thank you," Cal responded. After closing the channel, Cal slammed his fist on the canopy. Disgusted with himself, he proceeded to meet up with his new patrol partner.

In a nearby sector of the secured area, Klan began to detest her new assignment. "Why do you do this to me, Ozma??" she asked herself. She had been paired with yet another chickling pilot to make her patrol shift a torture session. The recon patrols were laborious, to say the least. This pilot couldn't keep up with her, and he insisted on constantly asking stupid questions. The final straw was the question "So, why do they call you the Nephilim?" This young, inexperienced pilot learned a valuable lesson that day about the stories that are passed on amongst the NUNS pilots about Lt. Commander Klang.

On the Quarter, Alto sits quietly on his bed, staring at the envelope that Sheryl gave him. He had some ideas about what was written inside, but coming from Sheryl, it's still a guessing man's game. Alto finally decided to open the envelope and read the contents.

"Alto, the past several months have been nothing short of exhilarating. You've been the catalyst that started a chain reaction in my life. I used to not care about anyone but myself and my career, but all that has changed. All my life, I've had no time or desire for a relationship with anyone. When I met you, I first thought that I'd never give a damn about you after that. However, the events that transpired between that time and the end of the colony's journey made me realize how lonely I really am. I've been acting like a child all this time and I have decided that it's time to grow up and show you who I really want to be. I know that my personality sometimes rubs you the wrong way. What's so amazing to me is that I realized that I am willing to do what it takes to strengthen our relationship together. I don't want to make this too long, but I wanted to tell you that you're important enough for me to take a good, hard look at myself and realize that I no longer wish to push you away with my personality quirks. I hope to make these changes while you are gone. Please come back alive, so I can prove to you how serious I am about doing what it takes."

Sheryl signed her name "with lots of love," and a hint of perfume wafted off of the page. Alto flopped backwards onto his bed, not really willing to deal with this kind of drama right now. He tells himself that he does indeed love Sheryl, but there are different kinds of love. Unable to exert the energy to give it more thought, he puts the letter away, telling himself that he'll deal with it when he returns to Aimo. Caught between a rock and a hard place...

Somewhere out near the rings of Coral-5, Cal was dealing with an "admirer" of sorts. Finding out who he was after they introduced themselves, the VF pilot assigned to patrol with Cal could not believe he was working with the newest "celebrity" pilot. Just about everyone in the fleet had heard of the big duel the day before, but Cal was already tired of being put on a pedestal for it. For one, he felt like crap because his behavior disgraced himself and his ship. Secondly, he knows that he disrespected a highly-decorated pilot in front of everyone in the fleet to see.

He laughs to himself as he thinks about how he would have been taking all this if he had not been reprimanded by Commander Junzou. In his mind, he visualizes his former self consistently floating farther and farther from his current self. He has made the decision to adjust himself in order to be able to better meld in with the people he cares about. His wingmates, his superior officers, his shipmates, the entire NUNS, Planet Aimo, and... Klan?? Her face seems to involuntarily jump into the collage of pictures in his mind. He shakes his head to rattle things back in place. What's she doing in there?

At least there's two people who have realized that shedding away their negative qualities leads to newfound confidence in themselves. Like how a snake sheds its skin, it takes a sharp object to cut deep enough so it breaks it open. The newly-emerged snake seems to have a glossy sheen to its new outer layer. The old skin is left behind; its purpose has been served and outgrown by its former host.


	10. Contact

A/N: This chapter will contain some non-canon material, from a technical standpoint. So far, I've done my best to remain faithful to the established terminologies and technologies contained in the Macross universe, but I had to break away from it a bit to progress with the story.

I searched the internet high and low for detailed explanations on the workings of sub, hyper, and fold space. Unfortunately, it seems that there's not a lot of material available outside of the magazines that a lot of the sites get the really detailed information from. After gleaning as much Macross-related information to the subject, I combined it with actual theories from quantum physics and the such. I spent an entire afternoon working out the mechanics of my version of dimensional physics to use here, so try not to laugh... too much. =o)

I used a pretty good analogy to explain it to the reader. I'll go into further details at the end of the chapter. -03/11/10

* * *

Out near the rings of Coral-5 in the middle of the combat simulation area, a single red Queadluun Rhea dukes it out simultaneously with 4 VF-171EXs. As the red power armor easily dispatches the team of 4 fighters, the pilot begins to wonder if there's a shred of talent left in the fleet. "_Is there no one left to at least challenge me a little?_" Klan thinks to herself. Her frustration in dealing with so many inexperienced pilots needs to be released a little bit.

Klan sat in Ozma's office reading some reports that he gave her to review. Ozma sat quietly behind his desk, organizing pilot performance files in preparation for the upcoming selection process. As Klan looked over each performance report, she tossed them back on Ozma's desk. "Nope. Nope. Nope... and, nope." she smugly says to each one. Ozma had taken a lot of time to create some semblance of organization to his files and Klan seemed to disregard any importance to the order they were in as she picked them up, looked them over, and discarded them on his desk.

Ozma stopped what he was doing to address Klan's pickiness. "Let's step back for a moment, here... We're on a very short timetable right now. We need to finish this phase of the operation so we can get to the real important one," he said, "I spoke with HQ earlier today and they inform me that they will need us to finish as quickly as possible. The new Zentraedi fleet is being assimilated into the colony as we speak, but resources are severely limited to accommodate the new construction that needs to be done. The longer we take out here, the longer it's going to be before we gain control over our resource usage back home."

Klan sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. "Have you and Alto found anyone worth noting?" she asked. As Klan reached for more pilot profiles, Ozma replied, "Of course we've identified some talent out there. You still need to learn that good pilots require a bit of guidance for them to reach their potential. Working with them and watching them grow from chicklings to real pilots is part of the job." Just as Ozma said that statement, Klan had noticed that the file she was now holding was Cal's. Her memory flashed back to when she observed his shaky flying at first, how he practiced his maneuvers during patrol shifts, to her two dogfights with him. Each time they met, he had improved drastically. However, the image of his disrespectful showboating overlapped those memories.

Klan tossed the folder back onto Ozma's desk, and folded her arms. "NO," she stressed. Ozma could see the pilot's name on the folder upside down from him. He leaned forward to speak. "I want you to consider something for a moment, Klan," Ozma said, "Do you think that because you got to work with him a lot, that he was able to step his game up to another level?" Klan still sat with her arms folded, "I don't know... I guess... maybe." Ozma saw the opening to show Klan the fruits of her labors. "It may not happen with all of the pilots, but how do you know what the good ones are if you're unwilling to spend time with them?"

Klan's eyes grew open as her mind instantly flashed back to her conversation with Bobby back on Aimo. "_But if you don't start to get to know people, how will you ever know if they're the kind of person you've been searching for?_" Bobby's voice echoed. It suddenly started to make sense in a strange, coincidental way.

Klan became relaxed and casually reached back to Ozma's desk to re-evaluate the files that she had just previously rejected. Ozma could see the change of attitude within her, and sat back into his chair to quietly continue his work on selecting the pilots with Klan's help.

Out in space, Cal's finger hovered over a button labeled "Send" on his RVF's control console. After some hesitation, he allowed the finger to land on the button. The console displayed a progress bar in a pop-up window. After the bar filled, the computer notified Cal of the result, "Message Sent Successfully!" Cal exhaled in relief. Now, it's back to patrol duty.

In someone's quarters somewhere, a small box repeatedly blinks on the corner of a display panel. The dim lights in the quarters make the blinking box very noticeable to anyone who happens to walk into the room. The outside hallway lights form a quadrilateral shape on the floor as the door slides open. Someone's silhouette sits within the box of light on the floor. It moves forward a bit and the door closes behind, making the box of light and the silhouette disappear. The faint outline of a person, illuminated by the dim light, moves forward and turns on a desk light. The lamp allows one to see the rest of the quarters. This room is quite a bit larger than your standard quarters. An officer must stay here.

Taking off her jacket, Klan notices the blinking light on her display panel. The box shows that there is a message waiting for her to read. Curious to know who the heck could be leaving her a message, she turns on the display to identify its source. She frowns when she reads the name, "Lt. Wagner, Calvin A." Something inside of her urged Klan to open it.

The viewscreen paused for a moment, while the message was retrieved. When it finished with the retrieval, a video played. Cal's face could be seen behind the visor on his helmet. Every few seconds, his eyes would dart to in front of him or to the console to the side of the camera. The very sight of him began to slowly erode Klan's stomach away, but she continued to watch.

"Commander, I just wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day. You didn't deserve the treatment I gave you after the duel, and it took a lecture from my squadron commander to help me realize it. Ever since it happened, I've felt embarrassed, mortified, and upset that I allowed myself to be oblivious to the respect that you deserve. I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed serving patrol duty with you. Your very presence around me has helped me create my goals as a pilot," the message said. Klan's frown disappeared, but she remained indifferent. "Now, I'm stuck out here with some fool from the Deimos who thinks that I am the greatest pilot who ever lived. The person I used to be would embrace the compliments wholeheartedly, but because of all of this, I now care nothing of the outcome of our duel. All that matters to me, now, is that I've offended you and dishonored myself. I wish I could tell you this in person, but admittedly, I am too ashamed to confront you about it. I hope that you can someday forgive me over this. It would be nice to be able to fly at your side again, because I now realize how much I respect you for being who you are. You are the better pilot, and I will remain a chickling until I can prove that I represent a _real_ pilot like yourself."

Klan got up from her desk and flopped down on her bed to think about things. Ozma's statement about spending time to grow good pilots echoed through her mind. Bobby's advice on finding someone to love also began to enter the mix. Do the two concepts really have the same rules? In her mind, she begins to acknowledge Cal's effort to make things right. Now he's going to have to prove that he means what he says. It'll be up to him to create the opportunity to do so, if he really does care.

Near Coral-5's rings, Cal waited for the rest of his patrol shift to end. As he peered towards the battle simulation zone to see if there was any action going on, his radome began to pick up faint fold waves. He switched his display to show a readout of the weak signal and began recording it. "This isn't strong enough to mean anything. It's not a ship defold signature, and it's different than the fold waves that Ranka and Sheryl produce when they sing." Cal directed the sensor array to electronically output the waves into his headset.

Closing his eyes and putting his hands on the sides of his helmet to press the speakers closer to his ears, he focused on identifying any pulses or patterns of the waves. Before he could make any definitive conclusions, the fold waves dissipated, leaving silence behind. Cal opened his eyes and put his hands down to replay the digital display of the wave signature. He realized that he should notify command of the minor disturbance.

"Helios 14 to Azusa Tower," he called out. "Go ahead, Helios 14," the tower responded. "I just picked up a faint fold wave about 15 seconds ago. Did you guys detect anything?" Cal asked. The tower remained silent for a few seconds; probably to check with their radar readouts. The comm line opened up again, "No, we have no record of any fold wave anomalies." Cal began to wonder if he was just in the right place at the right time, or if this was just some unexplained phenomenon that doesn't really mean anything.

He programmed the sensor array to transmit the recording he had made to the Azusa for analysis. "Tower, I'm sending you the recording I made of the signal. It may be nothing, but it couldn't hurt to give it a closer look," Cal said, as he finished sending. The console on Cal's ship blipped again. "Tower, it looks like my relief is here. I'm heading home now," he said. The Tower acknowledged Cal and closed the line.

Some time later, Cal disembarked from his RVF in the Azusa's hangar. The fold signature was still being analyzed in his mind, although not being able to see or hear it anymore was making it difficult. As he walked towards the hangar exit to the living areas, Commander Junzou's office door opened. "Wagner!" Junzou called out. The commander saw that Cal had heard him and left the door open while he went back to his desk.

Cal entered the office, still carrying his helmet and knapsack. "Sir?" he asked. Junzou put his hand out to gesture Cal to have a seat. "A couple of things real quick, Lieutenant. Fleet Captain Wilder just gave me a memo regarding the fold signature recording you submitted to the Tower. After analyzing it, they asked me to put a gag order on anyone who knows about it. I'm guessing that you stumbled upon something that might be a clue as to the whereabouts of the Galaxy colonization fleet. That's just merely conjecture, as I have not been made privy to the results of their analysis. Have you told anyone of what you received out there?" Junzou asked. Cal shook his head, "No, Sir." "Good. Keep it that way, got it?" the Commander ordered. Cal nodded.

"Secondly, I think you should know that I got a message from Lt. Commander Klang of Skull Squadron. She wanted me to tell you that she received your message. That's pretty much all it said. I'm guessing you did the right thing, then?" Junzou asked again. "Yes, Sir. I followed your recommendation," Cal responded, "I'm not sure why she didn't just send that message to me." Junzou gained a smarmy grin on his face. "From what I know of women in general, I wouldn't worry about that too much. At least she thought of you enough to request that I forward that response to you. Just give that some time," Junzou replied.

"Okay, and finally, I'm going to be putting you back out on patrol again in a few hours. Part of Wilder's memo was that he needs as many RVF's deployed as possible, in case the fold signature begins to pass by again. I'd put you back out now, but you just got in. I need you to get a few winks of sleep and come see me as soon as soon you're rested enough to get back out there. It's best if you're as attentive as possible so you don't miss anything like that again," Junzou ordered. Cal acknowledged, somewhat begrudgingly.

"You did good getting that recording out to be analyzed. I'm sure they have some teams working on it right now to determine the source and its intent," Junzou said, "Go get some rest, Lieutenant. Dismissed." Cal saluted and left the office towards his quarters.

Right about that time, Luca and Lam worked together on the Macross Quarter bridge, analyzing the fold wave that Cal had recorded. Lam's monitor had various boxes and insets open simultaneously. Most of them animated their readouts in synchronization with the progression of the looping playback. Both Luca and Lam had extensive experience in communications and fold-waves and shared their thoughts on the still-theoretical framework of fold-wave technology.

Lam reminded Luca of their objectives, "Remember, we have to find out what the source of this wave is and what its intent is." "Determining its origin is still difficult. The recording was not done in the proper fidelity to get a directional indicator from this wave. If we were looking at it in real-time, or if the RVF-171EXs had the latest fold-communications technology installed to record it properly, it wouldn't be an issue," Luca retorted, "Its intent is a subjective matter. Since we still don't have this wave pattern on record, we won't know what it was for."

Lam took this in for a moment, but she quickly replied, "Then let's just look at this more and if we can't figure out its true intent, we can at least formulate a list of things to submit to the Captain when we're ready." Luca agreed and the two dove right into their studies, focused on uncovering as much information as possible.

A couple of hours later, Cal restlessly slept in his quarters. His mind seemed to be going a million miles an hour, despite him being asleep. A disconcerted look remained on his face as he repositioned his body underneath his covers every few seconds.

In his dream, Cal laid in his bed, which was surrounded by a pink and red ether. It appeared to be the only thing in sight. Suddenly, Cal sensed what felt like fingers running up and down his skin, feeling out the contours of his body through the sheet. Scared out of his mind, he threw the sheet off of himself and got out of his bed. His body floated in the ether next to the bed he was lying on before. The sheet he threw off his body remained suspended in midair, but it laid flat vertically, as if against a wall. An image of a person began to show faintly on the cloth. Cal winced as he tried to recognize the person being shown in front of him. He was shocked as he realized who it was.

"Marie?" Cal called out. The image did not react to Cal's beckoning. It motioned for him to come closer, not making a sound. It continued to make the same gesture as Cal got closer and closer to the bed sheet until he finally laid against it with his head turned to the side. The sheet felt a bit like water, but Cal pressed his ear to it, as if he was listening through a wall to the conversation on the other side. The sheet vibrated as he laid against it. It almost felt like someone's voice was causing the vibration. His ear began to pick up the voice of Marie as she was talking to him.

"Fold... your sheet. Your sheet is fold. Make open space." Marie's voice said to him in broken sentences. "I... I don't understand. I should fold my sheets to make space? Space for what?" Cal asked. The voice did not answer. Cal lifted his head from the sheet and watched Marie's image fade away. Suddenly, the sheet began to quickly grow and envelop Cal in a super-sized sphere that stretched out behind him farther than he could see.

As he looked behind him to see how far the sheet reached, he saw his bed begin to move position and morph into a Guantanamo-class carrier. All around the inside of the perimeter of the sphere, figures appeared in formations similar to the positioning of the fighter patrols that Cal had to help support during his on-duty times. Some of the figures were familiar to him. His wingmates, Commander Junzou, even Klan's red Queadluun was noticeable off in the distance. Behind him, it seemed like countless anonymous figures floated in clusters. Jen Wentz was the only recognizable figure amongst the shadowy groups of humanoid-looking figures.

Just as Cal finished looking around himself, he felt the sheet rippling, as if someone was tapping on it. Cal laid himself flat against the sheet, hoping to hear Marie's voice again. Instead of a voice, he could feel fingers running over his body again just like before. Cal began to imagine Marie touching him as she had done many times before when she was alive. The hands began to get more aggressive until Cal sensed something was not right. He pushed himself off the wall to see what it was that was spooking him. As he strained to look closer, a dark, non-humanoid shape materialized. Cal sensed danger lurking nearby and just as he began to cautiously back away, the figure made a punching gesture, winding it's appendage back for a strike.

The appendage burst through the sheet, causing the cloth to melt away, as if being set on fire. The figure behind the sheet became visible, revealing a very agitated red Vajra mecha-drone. Similar holes were torn open all around the perimeter of the bed sheet near the people positioned there, showing more Vajra behind them. As Cal looked on in horror, the Vajra lunged at him in an attack posture.

Cal awoke from his dream and sat up. His heart was pounding and his breath was short. He threw the blankets off of himself and turned to put his feet on the cold deck in his quarters. He sat on the edge of his bed with his face in his hands, trying to reorient himself to the real world after his confusing dream. Suddenly, the memory of the fold wave he had picked up earlier entered his mind, for no apparent reason. With the memory of his dream fresh in his mind, he unconsciously made a comparison to the feeling of the hands touching him through the sheet to the visual output from the fold wave sample.

"Fold your sheet. Your sheet is fold. Make open space," Cal repeated to himself the words that Marie had told him in his dream. His mind struggled to make sense of the words. Ever since he returned to service in the NUNS, Cal had seen more and more evidence that his former lover was still near him in some way. Every little nuance and inconsequential whisper in his ear told him that Marie was still working for him from beyond the grave. Whether it was true or not, it was still a profound phenomenon that was worth taking a look at whenever it happened. This dream was no exception and Cal did what he could to take it seriously.

Suddenly, the answer hit him as he put the pieces together inside his mind. "Oh shit!" he exclaimed as he rushed to put his pants on and grabbed his jacket and PDA off the table. Running through the halls and dodging soldiers, Cal dialed up a number on his PDA and held the device to his ear. "Commander? I'm on my way to the hangar, I need to speak with you urgently!"

Commander Junzou patiently waited in his office. A quick knock preceded the door opening on its own. The door swung open to show Cal hunched slightly over, holding his abdomen as he worked to catch his breath. After closing the door behind him, Cal began to explain his abrupt intrusion while Junzou looked on, waiting for the reason. "We were being probed," Cal said, coming out of left field. Junzou's eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Why do you think that, Lieutenant?" he asked. Cal began to think about how absurd his dream would sound to Junzou. What would be even more absurd is that he was taking his dream so seriously, basing his opinion solely on a nocturnal mirage.

"If I told you how I came to this conclusion, you wouldn't believe it. It's just that the signature that I recorded did not match anything on record. The safest, most conservative conclusion to it would be that we may be close to an attack. Even Captain Wilder takes this conservative approach, even though he doesn't know what it is. Why do you think he ordered additional RVFs to be deployed? The worst that could happen is we get attacked and at least we'd be prepared for it with more fighters out there," Cal said, stopping after every sentence to catch his breath.

Junzou clamped his hands together in front of his face as he began to think about Cal's words. Cal had to verify the symbolism of his dream without telling the Commander of why he knows this. "Sir, is it possible to speak with the people who are working on the wave sample's analysis?" Junzou could tell that Cal was dead serious and convinced of his theory. Willing to go out on a limb, Junzou contacted the captain of the Azusa to request permission to speak with Quarter's communications officers.

After receiving the approval, Azusa's communications officer patched Cal and Commander Junzou through to Luca and Lam, still working on the bridge of the Quarter. "Lieutenants Angelloni and Hoa? This is Commander Junzou of Helios Squadron, Azusa. One of my pilots here has a theory on the fold wave sample he sent to you earlier today," Junzou started as he introduced Cal. Lam and Luca nodded in acknowledgment. "You're the pilot that recorded this?" Luca asked of Cal. "Yes, Lieutenant," Cal responded as he went into his explanation.

Jen Wentz heard Cal's voice coming from behind her. "_Cal??_" she thought to herself. She began to feel very hot as the feeling of nervousness overcame her. She tried not to show reaction to what was going on behind her and continued to direct aerospace traffic near the Quarter. She kept an ear open to the conversation that was going on behind her, though.

"We all know that fold-space exists between real-space and subspace. If you can imagine fold-space as a blanket laid over a contoured surface, you could run your hands over the blanket and feel each impression through your hands. Would it be possible for a being in subspace to be able to 'feel' things in real space while in subspace?" Cal asked. Lam and Luca were very confused, but intrigued by Cal's analogy. "We still have only discovered a small percentage of the properties of subspace and fold-space. It could be possible, but we don't know for sure. Who would have the ability to possibly do such a thing?" Lam asked.

"As far as I know, a being that has spent eons inhabiting subspace. A super-dimensional life form," Cal responded. Lam and Luca looked at each other in enlightenment. "The Vajra!" they both simultaneously exclaimed. Cal nodded, "Exactly. What I detected could be a method of probing. They may know we're here and were verifying our positions with that fold wave I recorded." Luca asked, "But, I thought the Vajra hive left to parts unknown. What are they still doing here?"

Captain Wilder overheard the conversation and approached the communications station where Luca and Lam were talking to Cal and Junzou. "The Vajra are still a relatively unknown species. What we know of them is probably just the tip of the iceberg. I agree that they could still remain in this system in one way or another. If you look at the examples of social hive-minded insects on Earth and Eden, the Vajra behave similarly. When beehives swarm, the queen leaves with most of her workers and drones. A new, virgin queen will take her place in the existing hive and begin to reproduce again. We can't assume that the entire Vajra hive has followed their queen to wherever she went," Wilder stated.

Everyone nodded in agreement. Cal re-entered the conversation with the other part of his dream, "I believe that there is an imminent attack by rogue Vajra swarms. One of the lesser queens may be operating under her own volition, and is commanding her drones to scout us out before attacking." Cal stood up and got ready to leave, "Excuse me, Sirs, but I think I need to be out there on the lines, looking for signs of an attack." Wilder and Junzou nodded at Cal and he left the room to get into his RVF.

The officers continued to debate the legitimacy of Cal's claims for several minutes after he left to get into his pressure suit. Before a decision was made, Monica's radar station began to signal the formation of fold-space disturbances in a highly localized area on the defense perimeter. "Captain! I'm picking up a large number of defold signatures coming from bearing 020, 358. About 1000 kilometers out!" Wilder gasped as he looked out of the front of the bridge. The faint glow of the defold signatures emerging into real-space could be seen by the naked eye, despite being so far away.

From the Azusa's launchpad, Cal could see the incoming enemy craft emerging from subspace. Two intense feelings overcame him simultaneously as he awaited the catapult officer's launch approval. The feeling of anticipation of combat made him feel excited to be back in the mix of things. However, it also made him somewhat fearful because of what happened on his last combat duty. To fight off his apprehension, Cal cranked his rock music up in the earbuds he had set up to keep himself out of trouble for listening to music while on duty.

The launchpad illuminated the holographic displays showing him the runway markers. The display changed colors, signaling his launch authorization. Before opening the throttle, Cal placed two fingers on his visor and puckered his lips, as if giving a kiss. He then placed those fingers on his flightsuit, under which his engagement rings rested against his chest. A determined look fell upon Cal's face as he cranked the throttle up and burst across the runway into free space.

Entering his flight pattern to enter the battle area, Cal turned his music off to be able to hear the radio chatter. He noticed that none of the ships had yet reacted to the defolds. It looks like he's the only reinforcements for at least a couple of minutes. In the Azusa hangar, alarms sounded as Commander Junzou rushed to get his flightsuit on. "Lieutenant Wagner, your orders are to support the defenses until reinforcements arrive." he said over the comm line in his office. "Acknowledged, Commander," Cal said from his RVF.

"It's a simple swarm, no carriers are with them," Monica reported. "Who's in that sector?" Captain Wilder asked. "It's mostly RVFs with a few escort fighters, Sir. Lt. Commander Klang is the ranking officer in that area," Monica responded. "Put me through to her," Wilder ordered.

Klan's display monitor showed Wilder in an inset screen on the corner. Klan was already locked in combat with several Vajra. "You are in charge out there, Commander. Make sure that those damn bugs don't get through while we scramble the reinforcements," Wilder ordered. "How long do you need?" Klan asked. "It's going to be about 3 minutes. There is already one fighter on the way to reinforce you... a Lieutenant, uh... Wagner in an RVF-171EX," Wilder responded. That was one name that Klan did **not** want to hear at that time. After a moment of hesitation, Klan acknowledged her orders.

Unfortunately for Klan, many of the RVFs in the area were quick to go down, leaving her with only a handful of VFs and RVFs to hold the line. The comm lines were full of the pilots screaming as they went down in flames. The remaining pilots grew more and more nervous while their wingmates were eliminated. Klan remained steadfast, zooming around with blinding speed and engaging groups of targets simultaneously. The number of Vajra still heavily outnumbered the remaining NUNS fighters, though.

Klan's fighter group began to buckle at the knees in the face of these overwhelming odds. Several pilots started to retreat, against Klan's orders. "Pilots, you were ordered to hold the line! Return to combat at once!" Klan barked out over the radio. Only a couple of fighters remained in combat. As she turned to watch the fighters leaving the battle zone, they were shot down by drones who had broken through the line at their former positions. "Tch... the cowards are always the first to die," she mumbled to herself as she sped up to catch the progressing intruders.

Successfully destroying the farthest-penetrating drones, Klan turned to watch the two remaining VFs get shot down. She was the only thing that stood in the way of the advancing swarm. Only about 20 Vajra remained in the attacking group, but it was far too much for one pilot to handle. Sensing her oncoming destiny, Klan gritted her teeth and charged headfirst into the group, hoping to take as many of those bastards as she could before she finally bit it. "This is how it must end!" she yelled as she opened fire on the swarm. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. The inertia of the acceleration caused the tear to fall backwards towards her ears. "_I'm coming, Michael..._" Klan thought to herself, while she charged into the hopeless battle.

* * *

A/N: As you can see, I had to go out on a limb on the explanation of the relationships between sub, hyper, and fold. I consider fold to be the all-encompassing dimension. That means that hopping into any adjacent space means traveling through fold. Fold acts as a membrane of sorts that holds everything together and is not capable of being used for travel by three-dimensional objects. It is capable of being used in a two-dimensional manner, such as communications.

At the time that I wrote this, I had to assume that communications had previously been using either sub or hyper. The advent of fold communications came early on in the Frontier series. I realize that I may be using the terminology wrong, but like I said, I couldn't find any good sources, so I just made up my own. Because of this, I also realize that my story drifts away from canon... it IS a fanfic after all, though. Pretty much everyone's stories are non-canon. I just wanted to stay as accurate as possible. Is that too much to ask?? *sniffle*

Anyway, let me know if you guys have any comments or suggestions so I can go back and possibly rewrite to make it a little more accurate. -03/11/10


	11. Feint, Parry, Riposte!

Skull Squadron sat on the tarmac of the Quarter, awaiting their launch approval. Ozma, Alto, Luca, and Nene listened to the radio as their compatriot, Klan, was getting overwhelmed by the Vajra swarm. Kanaria waited in her Monster, in case special deployment orders were issued. Jen's voice crackled over their radio, "Skull 1, 3, 6, and 9, you are clear for takeoff!" The pilots all opened their throttles and left the Quarter in formation. Kanaria's Monster was brought up to deck for launch preparations behind them.

"What's the status on the battle, Quarter?" Ozma asked on the radio. Wilder answered the call, "Klan is out there basically alone now. It's not looking good for her. Helios squadron has just launched from the Azusa and they'll be the first to get there." The Skull pilots were practically on the edges of their seats, hoping to make it in time to help out their wingmate.

Suddenly, from the other end of the defensive perimeter, a series of defold signatures began to show up, including a large one. A single Knight-class Vajra Carrier defolded with a large complement of fighter-drones and mecha-drones in escort. Monica alerted Wilder of the incoming craft, "Captain, a Vajra carrier has defolded at 242, 031! Over 100 escort drones are protecting it!"

Before Wilder could even issue a reaction order, the Vajra carrier opened fire on the nearest cruiser with it's beam cannon. The Northampton-class cruiser was immediately vaporized, along with several supporting craft who were in the line of fire of the monstrous beam. "The Omaha has been destroyed! The Phobos has taken massive damage from a partial hit!" Monica reported.

Wilder clenched his teeth as he realized what was going on. "It's a feint-attack maneuver! Skull Squadron, you are ordered to engage the newly-emerged fleet. All ships, move to defensive positions to maximize effectiveness," Wilder said, closing communications to the fleet. The gunboats and cruisers turned themselves longways to increase the spread of their defensive capabilities. Squadrons of fighters emerged from the carriers and headed out to deal with the bigger threat of the Vajra cruiser and it's large complement of escort fighters.

"Sir! What about Klan?" Ozma desperately asked. "She's on her own for now. Helios Squadron will support her as soon as they arrive," Wilder responded. Ozma did not like this at all. He gritted his teeth in disappointment as he led his squad towards the new swarm. Wilder decided to move his flagship into firing position. "Bobby, turn the ship to 120 degrees to port, full ahead. Position the Quarter behind the first line of defending ships!" he ordered. Bobby acknowledged his orders as the ship listed to the left.

Klan's ferocity in combat was in full show as she sought to hold off the attacking swarm for as long as she could. She had to spend almost all of her time defensive, while the onslaught of Vajra continued to rain down on her. Skillfully, she managed to avoid all incoming fire by leading the swarm on a wild goose chase. However, her luck would not hold out long. A red mecha-drone cut off her escape route and threatened to finish her off with a charged shot from its main cannon appendage. Gasping in surprise, Klan accepted her fate and closed her eyes in anticipation of the kill shot.

Just as the mecha-drone finished charging its cannon, a white-hot beam cut its way through the Vajra's body. The bug remained motionless as the microseconds seemed to tick by like regular seconds. Klan opened her eyes just in time to see the Vajra in front of her explode violently. As the smoke cleared, Cal's white RVF-171EX zoomed in front of her to engage the next target. His well-placed particle cannon shot saved Klan from destruction. However, Klan was not about to thank him for the favor.

"Lieutenant, you need to fall back and rejoin your squadron! There's no way you will survive this without more support. I will remain here and hold them off until the reinforcements arrive. Move it!" Klan barked over the comm lines. "Sorry, Commander, but I have my orders. You're going to have to use my help," Cal casually responded. "Wagner! I have no time to deal with your insubordination! You will leave now or face the consequences!" Klan angrily yelled. Cal continued in combat and ignored Klan. Realizing that her orders were not going to be followed, Klan re-engaged in combat. "Goddamn you, Wagner!" she yelled, accepting that he was going to have to die alongside her.

The two pilots worked furiously to cover each other's backs. Still outnumbered nearly ten to one, the odds were very bad, but better than just a few moments ago. Using Cal's help, Klan managed to wipe out a few of the attacking Vajra. Cal focused his efforts on keeping the bugs out from behind her so she could focus on her strength as an assault-style pilot. Even Cal was able to score a couple of gun and missile kills.

Klan was glad, even if it was a tiny bit, that she finally could fight these bugs with a competent wingman. However, she was going to let him have it if they came out of this alive. If it's one thing she cannot tolerate, it's insubordination of her orders.

The Vajra swarm continued to follow the double corkscrew maneuvering that Klan and Cal were using to keep their opponents from locking onto them. Two separate lines of Vajra drones formed a multicolored ribbon trail; creating a sort of double-helix effect while they chased the two fighters. "You ready, Wagner?" Klan radioed. "Ready!" Cal responded. "Okay, do it!" Klan ordered.

The two fighters converged their paths out of the double corkscrew and Cal released every flashbang countermeasure he had. Hoping the Vajra would at least either be distracted by it, or blinded by it, the two pilots took a bit of a gamble to pull the win out with this move. Cal had maneuvered his RVF into a 360 degree "wiggle" to give the multiple flashbangs a spread of trajectories behind him.

The flashbangs quietly spread out in the empty space while their timers counted down. The darkness of space was temporarily torn asunder by a barrage of high-intensity light from the flashbangs. As the light subsided, Klan and Cal both stopped their forward progress and turned around to engage the oncoming Vajra swarm. Both pilots exhausted their complement of missiles and opened fire with their primary weapons to fill that area with as much destruction as possible. Hoping to reduce their numbers to a more manageable amount, the two pilots finished their barrage and separated from each other to pick off the rest of the remaining swarm.

When the smoke cleared, the two pilots could see that there were still several Vajra left. Their barrage had cleared up some of them, but the danger was not over yet. The surviving Vajra swarm gathered itself back up and began to chase their targets once more. "Shit, I had hoped it would finish off most of them. We're not out of the woods yet," Klan exclaimed. As she turned to see Cal's position, Klan realized that Cal was about to be overtaken by a subset of drones who had broken away from the rest of the pack.

"Wagner! You've got two of them coming at you 10 o'clock high!" Klan yelled. Cal reacted by banking right to dodge the incoming fire, but the Vajra were using an incredible amount of teamwork to fight more effectively. Klan broke her flying pattern to cover Cal, who was about to be overtaken by one of the groups of swarms. "I'm in deep shit!" Cal exclaimed. Klan took a shot with her beam cannon, hoping she could get one of the lead drones and give Cal a chance at escape. Her quick shot nailed the lead drone on the head, resulting in its destruction. The remaining Vajra continued to attempt to overtake Cal. However, with the additional space to move, Cal was able to pull out of the pattern and escape harm.

Klan sighed relief as she had just saved Cal from certain destruction. Before she could re-engage, a charged blast lanced through the backside of her Queadluun. The blast cut a swath down the back, severely damaging the exhaust ports and rendering her engines completely inoperable. Electricity coursed along the backside of the Queadluun, as the power armor listed away from it's previous trajectory.

"Commander!" Cal yelled over the comm line. "Get out of here, Wagner. I'm of no use anymore..." Klan said. The swarm of Vajra began to circle around the disabled Queadluun, like a pack of carrion birds. All of Klan's motor movements were disabled and only her avionics and life support remained, running on battery power.

One of the fighter-drones moved in for the kill from the front. Cal would have none of this and he moved in to defend Klan's disabled Queadluun from the remaining swarm. Switching to battroid mode, Cal drew his Ka-bar and tackled the fighter-drone out of the way from its kill trajectory. Cal quickly planted the knife into a critical area on the fighter-drone's body. He pushed the flailing carcass away, as it slowly expired.

Cal's targeting system indicated 8 remaining Vajra. "Not looking too good," he said as he maneuvered himself into Klan's blind spots, doing what he could to block incoming fire with his shield. Klan watched as his battroid slowly revolved around to the front of her disabled Queadluun, continuing to fire upon the passing Vajra and keeping them at bay. This image was eerily familiar to Klan...

As the horrifying feeling of dejavu fell over Klan, she noticed a fighter-drone begin to move towards Cal's backside. "_Not AGAIN..._" Klan thought to herself in an instant. "Watch out!" she yelled over the radio. Cal's battroid turned around to see the incoming attacker. He fired upon the Vajra drone, but it ducked underneath his fire and swooped up into melee range for the killing blow. Klan's mouth hung open in disbelief that someone else was going to die in front of her in the same way as she had seen before.

Cal's battroid coiled in defense of the incoming melee strike. As the fighter-drone began to thrust its flagella forward to impale the cockpit, it was hit by a barrage of gunpod fire; knocking it away and causing it to explode. Cal looked to the side just as he saw a squadron of VFs flying into the battle area and scattering the remaining Vajra. The fighters split up into groups of 2 each and picked a Vajra to pursue.

The lead VF transformed into GERWALK mode and stopped in front of Cal and Klan. "I heard you guys were having some fun out here, so I decided to bring my friends to liven things up a bit," Commander Junzou said over the radio. Cal's face returned from pale white to its usual color as he responded. "You guys are more than welcome to join the party!" Cal exclaimed in relief.

He continued to defend the Queadluun, while the rest of Helios Squadron mopped up the remaining Vajra drones. Klan remained silent, still upset at Cal for disobeying her orders. Somewhere buried deep inside that animosity, she was glad that she was still alive and that Cal managed to survive as well.

On the other side of the fleet's deployment range, the real battle raged on. The Vajra carrier opened fire on the fleet again, taking another one of the carriers out with a blast of its beam cannon. Wilder was becoming frustrated at this and opened a channel to Ozma, who was in the thick of things. "Commander, why is that carrier still firing on us?" he demanded. "Sorry, Captain but these Vajra are doing an incredible job at keeping us away from their carrier. It's as if their combat capabilities have increased since our last meeting. We didn't have time to load out any MDE bombs to soften their numbers before attacking, so we're having to destroy them one at a time. We've taken a pretty good chunk of losses too," Ozma replied.

Wilder did not like this one bit. This means that his fleet has been caught completely off-guard and has sustained notable losses. "This is quite unacceptable. We need to end this right NOW, before any more lives are lost," Wilder said as he cut the message off. "Bobby, move into firing position. We need to take out that cruiser before it does any more damage," he ordered.

Ozma and his squadron struggled to break the defensive line that the Vajra held to keep their carrier safe. "Goddammit! These damn bugs seem to be fighting with a strategy on their minds," Ozma yelled over the squadron's comm line. "Someone ordered a meat tenderizer?" Kanaria chimed back. Her Monster had finally made it to the front lines and began to search out a spot to fire from on top of some poor ship's brittle hull. "Clear me out a spot so I can punch a hole through these pesky drones," Kanaria requested.

Ozma ordered the fighters to regroup in order to minimalize the chances of anyone getting hit by friendly fire. Kanaria used the derelict hulk of one of the destroyed carriers as a firing base. Several fighters took up a defensive position to make sure that the Monster would be able to fire its salvo without being hit. Taking the time to properly position and anchor her VB, Kanaria called out the incoming artillery strike on the fleet's comm lines. Fighters began to scramble out from in front of the Monster, and from the designated strike area.

The shock blast from the rail guns firing caused the empty hull to jolt backwards. A few seconds later, the shells reached their target zones and flooded the area with destructive annihilation. Scores of Vajra drones were destroyed in the blasts. "Now, that's what I'm talking about!" Ozma chimed over the radio. "Let's get in there and hit that carrier!" he ordered.

The Vajra carrier began to orientate itself to fire its cannon at the hole in its defenses before the attacking fighters could penetrate the defense line. Luca opened up the comm line with the warning, "Watch out, Commander! They're about to fire their main cannon right at us!" "What? Clear it out, everyone!" Ozma frustratingly ordered. The carrier's cannon reached its firing position and began to charge the energy up for the burst.

Before it could fire, it was pierced by a single shot from the Quarter's Heavy Quantum Reaction Cannon. The green glow faded from its cannon array and the ship's structure began to dissolve at the subatomic level, before it listed away and exploded in an impressive light show. Ozma turned around in time to see the Quarter passing by one of the NUNS carriers into the line of sight it needed to fire on the Vajra carrier.

"Wilder to all squadrons, mop up the remaining Vajra and secure this area! All fleet ships need to contract to standard defensive positions. All perimeter patrols return home for redeployment of new defensive positioning." Captain Wilder barked over the fleet-wide channel, "Phase One of our operation is now over. Preparations need to begin to move forward to the Kihnes Asteroid Belt as soon as possible! Ship captains report to me on your status in ONE hour."

Alto opened up the squadron comm line. "Captain Wilder sounded **pissed**. Looks like this operation just turned into a search-and-destroy," he said. Ozma responded, "I'll be honest. We just got our asses handed to us by a bunch of hive-minded bugs. We may have survived, but those Vajra took out two of our capital ships and severely damaged another. We lost a lot of VFs too. At the cost of what, one carrier and about 150 drones? I'd be pissed too, if I was in his position."

On the Quarter's bridge, residual explosions could be seen in the battle area as the NUNS fighters finished off the remaining Vajra drones. Captain Wilder began to receive damage reports on his console from the fleet. As he read on, he started to lose his composure. He took off his hat and sat forward to put his face in his hands. Monica glanced back to see him reduced to his current state. She began to empathize with the Captain and fought hard to keep the tears from getting in the way of her work.

On the other side of the fleet, the call for retreat was received by Helios Squadron. "C'mon, guys. We're going home!" Junzou hollered out to his squad. Cal was still standing vigilant as Klan's bodyguard until it was safe to bring her back home. "Commander Junzou, I'm going to take Commander Klang back to her ship before returning to the Azusa," Cal said. Junzou felt that this was an important thing for Cal to have to do, considering his knowledge of their history and recent interactions with each other. "Alright, be sure to stop by my office for debriefing when you return," he replied.

"You ready to go home, Commander?" Cal said as he flew up in battroid form to grab a hold of her derelict Queadluun. "Don't touch me," she said, "Just go with your squadron. I need to be left alone." Cal was confused by her attitude, but began to find her churlish ways to be unacceptable for a pilot of her skills. "You heard the recall order. You need to return home," Cal said. "I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!" Klan yelled over the radio. Cal recoiled his battroid's hand before it came into contact with the Queadluun.

Cal knew that bringing her home was the right thing to do. He convinced himself that Klan was just being irrational. He proceeded to grab the Queadluun and push it back towards the Quarter. "Did you hear what I just said? I **ordered** you to leave me here, Lieutenant!" Klan yelled again. "It wouldn't be safe to leave you out here. The Fleet Captain ordered the return of all fighters and that means you too, Ma'am," Cal responded. "To hell with his orders! I don't need **you** to lecture me on following the rules! Stay out of **my** busi-" Klan said, but Cal cut off the comm lines. He'd had enough of her nonsense and proceeded to follow _his_ orders.

Cal's console indicated he had an incoming connection from the Queadluun, but he ignored it. He used the quietness to reflect on the chain of events that led him to this point. Had he not been warned through his dream, more good soldiers would have been lost. Even Klan would not have survived if he had hesitated for another moment on his decision making. Whether or not it really was Marie communicating with him through his dreams, it certainly seemed like things worked out just well enough for him to be able to fight at Klan's side, like he had wished for since their duel a few days ago.

Escorting Klan's Queadluun, Cal began to approach the position of the Macross Quarter. "Helios 14 to Quarter Tower, come in," he said. The tower didn't respond initially. Maybe the FCO is busy with another routing request. After a moment, the tower responded and opened a channel to Cal's RVF. The video feed showed Jen Wentz at the flight control station. "Lieutenant Wagner!" she exclaimed, with a blushing face. "Jen- I mean Lieutenant Wentz?" Cal responded. Immediately, he sunk into his seat realizing that he'd run into Jen again. The odds of this happening were supposed to be astronomical! "_I completely forgot that she was serving on the Quarter..._" Cal thought to himself.

"It's so good to see you again," Jen said. Cal could see Bobby, Mena, Lam, and Monica starting to creep towards each other in the background as they watched on. A couple of them were covering their huge grins with their hands. "You too... uh, I need an approach vector to your flight deck. I am returning Commander Klang and her disabled Queadluun," Cal requested. "Oh! Of course, uhm... here you go," Jen said as she punched some numbers in on her console.

Cal received his approach vector and headed towards the deck elevator on the Quarter's deck. The hangar was in full motion, as crews rushed to restore the VFs back to deployment condition, in case they were called up again. "Someone give me a hand here..." Cal spoke on his loudspeaker towards the hangar crew. Nene gasped, reacting to seeing her sister's power armor in its disabled state. One of the Work Destroids onboard made its way to Cal, who was still standing on the elevator. By himself, he was only able to hold the Queadluun up from falling over, due to the artificial gravity in the hangar.

Following an order from Ozma, Cal helped the Work Destroid get Klan's Queadluun set up on the repair riggings and needed to get his RVF secured for a meeting in the hangar office. Cal disembarked from his cockpit onto the catwalks set up along the walls while workers attached a motor to the Queadluun's cockpit hatch mechanism. The motor slowly turned the gears to the hatch and revealed a very pissed off Klan.

As soon as she could, she hopped out of her power armor and dropped her helmet on the ground, before lunging towards Cal. As Cal was about to make it to the access lift, he heard his name being called out by a very loud and boisterous voice. "Lieutenant Wagner!" Klan yelled out, charging towards the catwalk where he was walking. Cal was expecting some sort of confrontation at this point, but he jumped anyways when he heard Klan. He turned around and stood at attention.

"Ma'am!" he responded with a salute. As Klan approached him, he suddenly became captivated by her appearance. He'd never seen her before in person and was finding it difficult to stand upright, both from his weakened knees and because he was about to be chewed out by an officer whose physical stature was many times his own.

"Apparently, you **still** have a problem following orders! I will no longer tolerate your insubordination! Consider your career with the NUNS **over**!" she yelled at him, while pointing her finger at his face. Still having difficulty maintaining his composure, Cal reached inside of him to find the strength to stand up to the Nephilim. There's no way he was going to take this chewing-out when he was in the right.

"I followed my orders! Yours were superseded by a higher-ranking officer's and I followed them. I told you that I had orders and you refused to listen!" Cal shot back. Klan did not expect him to fight back. She's always gotten her way when ordering around miclones. Even in her miclone form, she still got things done, despite her smaller stature. Cal's insolence further enraged Klan and her hand turned into a shaking fist, as if she was about to hit something.

"How dare you argue with me! You even had the audacity to cut off my communications when I was giving you a direct order and then you **ignored** me? I should recommend corporal punishment for your transgressions!" Klan yelled as she slammed her fist onto the catwalk, as if to drive the point home. The walkway could not support the force applied to it and it bent under her fist, but didn't break. Everyone on it, including Cal, had to catch their balance after being thrown by the shock.

Cal still remained steadfast in his convictions that he was right and that she was blowing it out of proportion. "With all due respect, Commander, I maintain my innocence on the matter and would gladly defend my position in a court martial, if it was necessary," Cal said as he saluted again.

Klan could only see red at this point and the more Cal argued, the more enraged she became. Klan raised her fist again and before she could do any more damage, Ozma's voice barked from behind her. "Lieutenant Commander Klang! Stand at attention!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Hearing the order from her superior officer, she turned around and stood at attention and saluted. Her face was beet red from the burst capillaries under her skin. She trembled in anger as Ozma walked forward a few steps. "You will bring your micloned ass into my office in **ten** minutes, understood?" He yelled. "Yes, Sir..." Klan responded. "Move out!" Ozma ordered. Klan stormed away towards the micloning tanks.

Ozma took a glance at Cal before turning around and heading back to his office. He expected Cal to be in there any second behind him. Up on the catwalk, Cal violently exhaled as he leaned forward to catch the railing. A technician, who happened to be standing nearby, approached Cal and put his hand on his back. "You gonna be okay, buddy?" he asked. Cal nodded in response. The technician laughed, "Man, I do **not** envy you right now!" Another technician who was working nearby laughed as well. Cal smiled as he drooped his head below his arms. A slight chuckle started to come out as he stood back up, turned around to walk to the lift, and patted the technician on his back as he passed by.

Somewhere on the command deck, Captain Wilder sat in his office just outside of the bridge. The only light in the room was from the active display screens on his desk. Having been in communications with most of the ship captains in the fleet, he worked hard to summarize the damage sustained and create a report to submit to NUNS HQ. He was noticeably distraught at the information going through his mind.

The door chimed, alerting Wilder that someone wanted to see him. "Enter," he responds. Monica Lang stood on the other side with an inquisitive look on her face. Wilder did his best to restore his usual demeanor, hiding his actual state of mind from Monica. "Captain?" she said as she moved to sit down in the chair in front of his desk. "What is it, Monica? Now's not the greatest time to talk," Wilder said, casually pointing at his monitor.

"I just wanted to see if there was anything I can do to help," Monica asked, placing her hand on Wilder's desk. He stopped typing for a moment to look at her hand and then her face. "I'm fine," Wilder said with a sigh. Monica could immediately tell he was hiding his true feelings on the matter. "Nonsense, I saw you earlier. You're making yourself responsible for the lives of the soldiers that we lost today, aren't you?" she asked.

Wilder knew that she was right, but he desperately wanted to bear the burden himself. "The responsibility is mine. Lack of preparation and alertness was the cause, and it's my job to keep the fleet on guard at all times," he said, trying to justify his desire. Monica was not about to let him beat himself up so much, though. "We were in the middle of training exercises. It's not like we were out there looking for a fight just yet. It was against an enemy who we, before today, thought had left the system entirely," she said.

Wilder was not quite comforted by Monica's words. Monica continued, "Up until now, we haven't really seen the Vajra attacking with such coordination. The only time we saw any tactics like that was when they had a brood queen in the battle. This was just a carrier with a large complement of drones." Wilder started to become incensed by the fact that these _bugs_ had actually gotten the drop on his fleet. The very concept of bugs with intelligence seemed to offend him. "This just means that we will have to deal with an even more dangerous swarm of Vajra. Before we can secure the asteroid belt, or even a portion of it, we may be looking at a very tough series of battles ahead. I was hoping we would be able to enjoy this peace for as long as needed," Wilder responded.

"For what it's worth, I think that tactically, this encounter was handled in the correct way. When we picked up the mysterious fold wave, we put it through intense analyzation. You ordered the deployment of additional RVFs to reinforce the defensive perimeter somewhat, while giving us more 'ears' out there. When we were attacked, you did not hesitate to put the fleet into action. I really can't think of any way the situation could have been handled better," Monica said. Wilder smiled and thanked her for the complement, "I just wish that we were better-prepared."

Monica was getting a little tired of his verbal masochism. She reached to put her hand on top of his. "Jeffrey, don't forget that we are all in this together. Not only are we here to follow you and your orders, but we are also just as responsible for the outcomes of these conflicts. I don't want to see that look that you had on your face on the bridge earlier ever again. We will share the burden of consequences with you because we all know that you truly want to make the right decisions," Monica said.

Wilder was surprised that Monica referred to him by his first name. Sensing her sincerity, he smiled upon her with gentle eyes and thanked her for her words. After Monica left his office, Wilder began to type into his computer again, but stopped after a few moments to rethink the conversation over again. It's been a long time since he's been able to appreciate kind, sincere words of support. The last time he was able to do so was probably about the same time that his wife was still alive...

Elsewhere on the Quarter, Klan sheepishly enters Ozma's office. Having taken time during her micloning to reflect on her conduct, she fears that her meeting with Ozma is not going to go well. Ozma was watching Cal's RVF ascend on the deck elevator, on his way back to his mothership. He did not react to Klan's entrance and allowed her to stand at the door for a moment, to accentuate his mood.

"Ozma?" she asked. Ozma turned around, after letting out a sigh. "I'm going to start this out on a positive note. Obviously, we have a lot to discuss, Klan. Have a seat," he said while moving around the desk to his chair. Klan already didn't like how this was starting. She hadn't seen Ozma so concerned about something since she started flying for SMS.

"You did the right thing in staying in combat with that smaller swarm of Vajra, despite being sorely outnumbered. Had you retreated, our casualties would have been considerably higher in the fleet. For that, I commend you wholeheartedly," Ozma said. Klan wasn't convinced that this was something to take as a complement just yet. "What happened out there in the hangar is not what my main concern is, either. We will talk about that in more detail a bit later," Ozma continued. Klan was a bit confused at this point. She had figured that her temper problem was what she was in so much trouble for.

"My biggest concern is this recent string of behavior that's giving me the impression that you just don't want to be here anymore. And I'm not talking about flying for the NUNS and this fleet, but that you really just have lost your sense of value for your own life," Ozma said. Klan could not figure out how this came out of left field. "What? What makes you think that I'd given up on myself?" Klan demanded. What an audacious accusation!

"Lieutenant Wagner gave me his complete report of the battle, including his interactions with you. Even he seems concerned for your well-being. He told me of the conversation you two had last week about losing a loved one. He knows that you're still hurting and that the temptation to rejoin your loved one is a difficult one to deal with. I had been getting inklings of that impression, based on my conversations with you, but now I am sure that you're entering into a dangerous state of mind," Ozma said. Klan fought with herself on whether or not to agree, since she had accepted death as her fate not but an hour ago in battle.

"Okay. I will admit that I had no qualms about sacrificing myself to hold off the Vajra attack, but isn't that what any good soldier should do?" Klan asked. "Yes, but what about when Wagner showed up to assist you and you tried to order him away?" Ozma asked. He continued before Klan had a chance to answer the question, "What about when you tried to order him to leave you floating alone in space? There's only one reason you'd make such a ridiculous order. You had no intention on remaining with us."

Klan could not believe that someone else is telling her what she really knew about herself all along and did nothing to correct. "_Why the hell does that chickling pilot give two shits about me anyways?_" she thought to herself. "I don't know, Ozma. It was all in the heat of the battle. I just got caught up in the moment," she replied. She knew her answer was thrown together without any sense of logic.

Ozma laughed at the ridiculousness of her reply and then gained a very serious look on his face. "That's a bullshit answer and you know it. What you need to do is stop kidding yourself on this issue and face the reality of it." Ozma leaned forward and changed his demeanor to a concerned one. "You would probably agree that counseling is not part of the job of a squadron commander, but I will do it simply because I care."

Surprised by his sudden sense of humanity, Klan unfolded her arms and turned to Ozma to listen to what he had to say. "You've shrouded yourself in your grief over Michael's death. That shroud makes it impossible to see the people who are still around you, and it also makes it impossible for you to see yourself introspectively. Everyone on this ship sympathizes with you because we care for your well-being. We understand that it's hard for you to cope with, but many of us have lost loved ones too," he said.

"Because of this, you also have not been able to take a real good look at yourself from the outside. Your lack of self-respect has gone unnoticed for too long. Needless to say, this isn't how you were before Michael died. Back then, you were one of the best pilots in the colony fleet and you knew it. Everyone fed off of your confidence back then. That's why I promoted you to my XO," Ozma continued.

By now, Klan was deep in thought, as she tried to imagine herself as she was back then. Ozma wanted to finish his thoughts on the matter, "This squadron is going to need your strength. I know I will need you more than ever when we bring in the new pilots. But most importantly, we need you here as a part of this family." Ozma's words began to form a seemingly tangible feeling in Klan's mind. She needs to remember that there are others out there who depend on her to be around.

Ozma leaned back into his chair once again and put his hands in his lap. "Now, let's move on. I want you to give me your opinion... and I want you to be completely honest... what do you think of Lt. Wagner as a pilot and soldier?" Klan's eyes opened up as if she was about to complain about him again, but she remembered that she needs to give her professional opinion as an answer. "As much as I hate to admit it, he's quickly realized much of his potential. Tactically, he's got what it takes to be effective. Obviously, as you saw earlier, I have a problem with his unwillingness to follow his orders."

Ozma smiled at Klan's answer because he knew she'd bring up the insubordination issue. "When Wagner gave me his report, he made sure that I understood that he did not want to disobey you, but that he was, in fact, following orders he had received from his squadron commander. He seemed to be a little upset, not from the fact that you were chewing him out about it, but that he doesn't want you to think that he's intentionally trying to infuriate you." Once again, Klan couldn't understand why Cal would be so concerned about her impression of him.

"If you ask me, I think he looks up to you, Klan. His commanding officer told me that he has tried to make amends with you since your duel with him. What ever happened with that?" Klan was a bit surprised at Ozma's opinion. "Yeah, he did send me a message. I never did get back to him on it, though." Ozma smiled upon hearing Klan's confirmation. It looks like he's found himself someone to get Klan motivated again. He stood up to look out the window again.

"I've decided to bring him into Skull Squadron. His skills as an RVF pilot will come in very handy as we move into the asteroid belt for the second phase of our operation," Ozma announced. Klan was still not okay with awarding Cal a spot in the squadron. "Ozma! He's going to be nothing but trouble!" she replied. "Both I and his commanding officer see that he's willing to make the changes he needs to become an exemplary pilot. I am more than willing to give him a chance to prove it," Ozma said. Klan re-folded her arms and shifted away from Ozma in her chair.

"It gets better," Ozma turned to say, "I'm putting him under your command. He will be flying in Team Pixie as your RVF." Klan could not believe what she was hearing. She tried very hard not to lose her cool in front of Ozma. Sensing her inner strife, Ozma walked up to Klan and leaned forward to grab her shoulders. "I want you to trust me on this. Do me that favor, at least. I'm counting on you, Klan." She begrudgingly nodded in agreement. "Your orders are to make sure that he stays alive, okay?" Ozma added.

Ozma walked back over to the window he was looking out of before. "I don't want to see you lose control of yourself like you did out there earlier." Klan looked at the floor, embarrassed by her lack of self control. "You are my squadron XO and I want to make sure that you represent that rank. If you can't handle that, then I will have to find someone else who does. I want you to take a 24-hour leave of absence to put yourself back together," Ozma ordered. "Yes, Sir," she replied.

"Take some time for yourself. I want you to do what it takes to bring back the old Klan and prepare yourself for the new pilots in your team. I don't want you to be cooped up in your quarters all day, either. You will be joining me for lunch in the galley tomorrow, okay?" Ozma said with a smile. "Yes, Sir," she replied again.

Klan left Ozma's office feeling a little dejected, but relieved that things were progressing despite her misconduct. Her melancholy complexion slowly grew a smile as she realized that she was going to get a chance to get back at Cal for the irritation he's caused her the past week or so. "_This might actually be a little fun_," she thought to herself.


	12. Relocation

Ranka and Nanase sat together at a huge table, working on costume and set designs for Ranka's upcoming concert for the new Zentraedi fleet on Aimo. The table was covered in magazines, photographs, and sketchpads; along with two cups of coffee near the two ladies. Elmo could be seen pacing around in the background, talking to someone on his cell phone.

"So, it's been decided that the stage will be constructed on the hull of the Zentraedi flagship, much like the setup you had when you performed on Gallia-4, right?" Nanase asked. "Yeah, except let's have them set up some of their power armor suits behind me, instead of a VF," Ranka responded.

"Need any help, there?" a voice chimed from the entrance to the room. Sheryl and Brera stood in the doorway, holding some boxes of fresh take-out food. "Sheryl! Brother!" Ranka exclaimed as she got up to help carry the boxes to the table. Nanase warmly smiled and waved to greet the two.

After setting up some space to eat, the quartet sat down to dig into their food while continuing to work on setting up the concert tomorrow morning. "So, what do you think of everything so far, Sheryl?" Ranka asked. Sheryl had already flipped through their notebooks and drawings to see if she could lend her expertise to help out. "Impressive so far. Those Zentrans aren't gonna know what hit 'em!" Sheryl responded with a smile.

Elmo came up behind them after finishing his phone call. "Sheryl! Big news! The execs at the record company have agreed to terms on your new contract. They want us to come by the offices this afternoon and wrap things up!" he exclaimed. Ranka, Brera, and Nanase all raised their drinks to Sheryl. "Congratulations!" Sheryl gleamed with happiness at the news. "Let me finish eating here and we'll head out, Elmo," she responded.

Elsewhere on Aimo, Cathy is in a meeting with the Joint Chiefs and the President. Fortunately, her role in this meeting was purely observational as the most powerful people in the NUNS and Frontier Government discussed the current state of the colony. Fleet Admiral Perry and President Mulcahy sat on opposite ends of the table, surrounded by their respective staffs. The atmosphere in the room was very tense, as the two groups furiously debated the most prevalent problems going on at the time.

"The arrival of the Zentraedi fleet has been both a boon and a bust to our economy. We're being stretched thin on resources and manpower, trying to accommodate the explosion in Zentran population. How much longer is it going to take before we can start to harvest the minerals from the Kihnes Asteroid Belt?" President Mulcahy demanded. "I just spoke with Captain Wilder, who is in charge of the operations out there. He informed me of a recent attack by a rogue swarm of Vajra, which inflicted moderate damage on the fleet before being destroyed. I am disturbed by his reports of the advanced coordination of their attack on the fleet," Admiral Perry responded.

President Mulcahy's staff began to murmur at the news of the attack. Admiral Perry continued, "This puts our operation at a further risk of losing valuable time and soldiers, if this attack is not an isolated incident. Wilder has ordered the fleet to enter into Phase 2 because of the sudden and inexplicable actions of the Vajra swarm. The fleet is currently performing recovery operations of their damaged and destroyed ships, and is preparing to move out to the asteroid belt using conventional propulsion."

One of Mulcahy's advisors whispered into his ear. Mulcahy nodded and turned back to the Admiral. "Our offices have been receiving numerous letters and complaints from citizens who are upset that they are being stretched to accommodate the abrupt and unplanned annexing of the Zentraedi fleet. We must keep our ears open to the desires of the populace, or we risk losing control."

Perry leaned forward with his hands together at his mouth. "We understand that this is making things difficult for you and your staff. Wilder has requested reinforcements and we have a partial solution to both of our problems; with your approval, of course." Mulcahy and his staff listened attentively to the Fleet Admiral's plan.

Millions of miles away, Cal sat in his seat on a transport ship. He watched out the window as several ships maneuvered around the lifeless wreckage of the destroyed ships, looking for survivors and salvaging useful materials. Combat patrols of VFs periodically flew by the transport, on their way to the next waypoint. His mind was fresh with memories of his squadron giving him a going-away party after he received word of his impending transfer to Skull Squadron.

Commander Junzou had never looked prouder than he was when he gave Cal a toast at the party in the Azusa's mess hall. Lieutenant Prince and Ensigns Carter and Bae were sad to see their teammate leaving, but celebrated his success in a vibrant fashion. A lot of the squadron's pilots and mechanics had attended, including the mechanic who works with Cal. He was also to join the crew of the Quarter, by request of Bell-Casse.

Cal had been in close contact with David Nguyen since the news of his transfer had become public. The two discussed the results of the first round of testing during the first phase of the fleet's operations. Of course, the flashbang countermeasures were a resounding success, coming with Cal's grand seal of approval. Unfortunately, the two agreed that the holographic projector was not a viable loadout option, considering its bulkiness and difficulty to deploy effectively. David was quite amused about the story Cal told; detailing his dogfight with Klan and how it was the wildcard he needed to pull out the win. The new electronic warfare enhancements to the radome on the 171 was a slight success, enabling Cal to take advantage of the brief periods of enhanced stealth it gave him.

The only two devices that still needed testing were the fold-magnetic chaff and the IFF hacking radome module. David assured Cal that he would ship out replacement systems that were compatible with the RVF-25 that Cal was going to be flying while in Skull Squadron. There would also be a restocking of the munitions that Cal used during the first phase of the operations.

David seemed very happy that Bell-Casse's systems were showing a lot of promise. NUNS had certainly noticed the effectiveness of the flashbangs and had already contacted the company for details on the countermeasures. It looks like there will be a juicy defense contract in store for Bell-Casse very soon!

The Quarter's galley was full of new and existing crew who were busily eating their lunches. Jen Wentz sat at a table, patiently waiting for someone to join her before she started eating. As she turned her head to look around, she heard the 'clack' of a lunch tray landing on the table she was sitting at. In front of her sat Cal, who was still in a great mood about joining Skull Squadron.

"Hey, stranger!" Jen said with excitement. Cal looked up from his tray, as he shook salt into his food from the shaker on the table. "Good to see you again, Jen," he said, somewhat nonchalantly. Jen's smile dissipated a bit. "Are you not happy to see me again?" Cal put the shaker back into its holder. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound disinterested. I'm just a little tired from all the partying overnight," he said putting a smile back on his face.

"I had been hearing whispers of you over the last week and a half. I'm so happy for your success. Isn't it going to be great to serve on the same ship now?" Jen asked with exuberance. Cal tried not to roll his eyes at the question. He wondered why he wasn't terribly excited to see Jen, but reminded himself that he should be on his best behavior. Maybe he just needs some rest. "Yeah, I'm pretty psyched to be here. Can't wait to get myself into one of those beautiful 25s in the hangar."

Jen took a sip from her drink before asking her next question. "Do you know whose team you will be on yet?" "No, they haven't said anything to me yet. We have a squadron meeting in a few hours and I should find out whose team I will be with then." Cal and Jen each took a bite of their food before continuing their conversation. "Did you get to meet your roommate yet?" Jen asked. "No, the other bunk was empty, so it'll probably be one of the new crew. I guess he hasn't made it to the ship quite yet."

As the conversation continued, Jen tried to not bring up anything about their clandestine activities a couple of weeks back before they left Aimo. She kept reminding herself of her promise to Cal, but something in her wanted to find out if he still had feelings for her. Cal's behavior was not quite right for someone who would have been happy to see her right now. She'll have to take his word for it that he's just tired, so that's why he seems so nonchalant. She'll keep an eye on his behavior during their next few meetings.

Several tables over, the view was partially concealed by a strategically-placed decorative houseplant. A young girl's eyes remained glued on Cal and watched his interactions with Jen from afar. Ozma, who was sitting next to her, had to ask what the distraction was. "Klan, your food's getting cold. What are you looking at over there?" Klan blinked, as if she snapped out of a trance. "N-nothing..." she said, as she took her fork and dug into the waiting meal.

Klan had spent the last 22 or so hours trying to deal with her inner demons in preparation for the next phase of the fleet's operations. "You look better today," Ozma complimented, "How do you feel?" Klan finished eating her bite before answering. "I feel fine," was her simple answer. The usual Klan rhetoric...

The two leaders of the squadron continued to discuss their upcoming meeting with the rest of the squadron, while picking away at their lunches. Klan seemed much less tense, but Ozma noticed her attention drifting off to another part of the lunchroom from time to time. After some time, Jen and Cal got up from their chairs, returned their trays and hugged before parting.

Ozma's view had been obscured by the decorative plants set in a row on the bannister nearby. Upon seeing Cal pop up from behind, Ozma could see what Klan was looking at, since her point of view was not as obscured as his. Looking over to Klan to see what she was doing, he could see her attentively watching the two hugging each other before they left the lunchroom. Ozma let a smirk creep across his face.

"I see what it is now," he said. Klan snapped out of her trance again. "What?" "You like him, don't you??" Ozma asked, while elbowing Klan in the shoulder. Klan's face started to turn red, whether from embarrassment or anger, Ozma couldn't tell. "NO WAY! It's not like that. I am just intrigued as to what makes him tick. It's good to get to know how our pilots think," Klan said with a bit of a disgusted look on her face.

Ozma sat back up with the "yeah, right" look on his face. He'll leave her alone about it for now. He put his fork back into his food for another bite. "So, you'll be returning to duty shortly. What's first on your agenda?" "I just need to get my Queadluun ready for my escort duty. I'll finish that up right about when the meeting starts." Klan continued to eat her food, masking her thoughts from Ozma as best as she could. Ozma continued to look at her with narrowed eyes, as if he had the ability to see through her skull and into her thoughts.

Cal returned to his quarters to find that his roommate had just moved in. The aura of familiarity filled the space between the two as they recognized each other after a moment of hesitation. "Will Garrett, You don't belong here!" Cal said as he walked up to give a hearty handshake to his former schoolmate. "Man, I haven't seen you in years. Now I see what you've been up to!" Will said.

Cal saw Will's rank insignia on his uniform. "An ensign?? Have you been stuck behind a desk all this time, or something?" "No, I just joined up about a year ago. They promoted me from warrant officer a couple of months back. Looks like my flying skills are good enough for me to make the team, here. Do you know whose team you're flying for yet?" Will asked. Cal simply shook his head. "Yeah, they didn't tell me either. I guess we'll find out in the squadron meeting in a little while," Will said.

The two former school chums spent the next good while catching back up, while they finished unpacking their stuff into their quarters. "What ever happened with you and Marie? You guys were inseparable back in high school," Will asked. Cal had to explain what happened to yet another curious individual. "Oh man, I'm so sorry to hear that," Will said, consoling Cal's loss. "That's in the past now, but every once in awhile, I am reminded of her presence in one way or another," Cal said, alluding to his mysterious dreams and the way things have been working out for him recently.

As the time for the meeting neared, personnel began to gather at the briefing room for the first meeting of the new Skull Squadron. Cal and Will walked towards the hangar area, still talking about the "good old days".

Wrapping up her diagnostics on her Queadluun, Klan climbed out of the cockpit and started to head towards the micloning chamber to get ready for the meeting. Pilots and personnel would occasionally pass through the hangar on the way to the briefing room near where Klan was working, so she'd need to watch who was going by before darting across to the door leading to the micloning tanks.

"I saw the two Queadluuns in the hangar earlier. I wonder what it's going to be like to work with Zentraedi pilots. I heard the Nephilim is just as tough as she looks," Will chattered to Cal as the two approached the hangar entrance. Cal reserved his comments from Will. He wasn't going to give away any of the surprises that lie in wait for Will.

Just as the two stepped into the hangar area, a macronized Klan walked by in front of them. Cal's heart skipped a beat as she glared at him from the corner of her eye for a moment, then turned her nose up and closed her eyes as she passed by. The two stopped for a moment until she left the room and then continued on across the hangar to the briefing room. Will was dumbfounded.

"Who was _that_?" he asked. Cal sighed and answered, "That... was Lt. Commander Klan Klang." "**That** was the Nephilim?! She doesn't look anything like I had thought! The stories I heard painted her as something of a monster who'd change you to stone if you looked at her," Will said. Cal could tell Will was falling in love already... Cal clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. Will is the same girl-crazy guy he went to school with.

The briefing room was full of boisterous chatter as the squadron personnel took a bit of time to introduce each other before the meeting started. Cal sat next to Will at one of the tables, surrounded by many pilots and crew whom they had never seen before. Kanaria, Nene, and Luca were sitting at various places in the room. Alto stood against the front wall, watching for the commanding officers to enter the room to begin.

Right on time, Captain Wilder and Ozma entered the room. "Captain on deck!" Alto barked. The room grew silent and the crew all stood at attention. "At ease," Wilder said, tossing his notes onto the table at the front of the room. The crew all sat down to listen to the briefing.

"I'm just here to introduce myself, so I will make it quick. I'm Captain Wilder and I'd like to welcome you newbies to the Macross Quarter. This ship represents the best the NUNS has to offer and I will give each of you a fair warning: You were selected to join us because you showed the skills and expertise necessary to uphold the standard of service the NUNS has come to expect from us. If you can't live up to our standards, we can always find someone to replace you. For those of you who don't see that as a problem, you'll fit in just fine here."

"Normally, I'd spend more time with you, but I am sorely needed on the bridge to complete our preparations to move out. Good luck to you all, and we look forward to seeing what you can do for this ship," Wilder said as he headed back out the way he came. Ozma moved into the center where Wilder stood. "I'm Commander Ozma Lee, and I am the squadron commander. Welcome to Skull Squadron, pilots." By then, Klan had returned to the room in her miclone form. She replaced Alto at the front of the room and he went to go sit down in the chair that Luca had saved for him.

Before Cal could ask himself why there was a kid standing in the front of the room, Klan singled him out with her eyes. She gave him the same glare as before when he was crossing the hangar area into the briefing room. "Who's the kid?" Will whispered into his ear. "You don't wanna know," Cal answered as it became fairly clear to him who it was.

"As you already know, Skull Squadron has the honor of being the first deployed unit to operate the new VF-25 Messiah variable fighters. All of you newbies will need to go through rigorous training and orientation to fly these majestic machines. We also have a pair of Queadluun Rheas in our squadron, one of which is piloted by the squadron XO, Lt. Commander Klan Klang. Commander?" Ozma said, giving way to the child-like Klan.

She moved behind the table in the front and stepped up on a small stool that was placed there in anticipation for her portion of the presentation. Whispers and murmurs mixed in with some chuckling here and there. Cal knew better than to make light of the situation, but he had to fight to keep a straight face. Klan stood on the stool for a moment, waiting for everyone in the room to get it out of their systems. Her patience ran thin, as she quickly came to a boil and overflowed over the edge.

"Are you quite finished?!" She demanded. The room fell silent once again. Klan exhaled and began her part of the presentation. "Teams are set up as follows..." Klan went down the list and came to hers last. "I will command Team Pixie, Nene Rora will be my 2nd in command, Ensign Garrett will fly a VF, and my RVF will be Lieutenant Wagner." A faint 'smack' could be heard as Cal placed his hand over his face and sunk into his chair.

Klan shot a look at Cal. "Something the matter, Lieutenant?" Cal looked back at her and sat up straight. "No Ma'am." "Good. I will now go over our escort schedule while the fleet moves into position to begin its first series of scans of the asteroid belt..." Klan continued. Will leaned over to whisper to Cal, "What's the matter, dude?" Cal lightly shook his head and answered, "I'll tell you later."

Klan wrapped up her reports and Ozma dismissed the squadron from the briefing room. The first person to leave was Cal. All he wanted to do was go to his quarters and get some sleep before his simulation classes later.

Will wasn't too far behind him, but it gave Cal enough time to get his uniform off and hop into bed. Will couldn't stop talking about Klan's youthful appearance while micloned. "I heard it's a genetic defect that she has. That's too bad. She's quite the looker when she's super-sized." Cal didn't really feel like talking about it as he grunted and rolled over, as if to tell Will to shut the hell up and let him sleep.

As if being summoned by speaking about her, the door to their quarters flew open and Klan entered with her sister. "At attention! It's inspection time!" Klan barked out. Cal jumped up from his bed and slammed his head on the bottom of the upper bunk. "Goddammit!" he mumbled as he struggled to get out of bed. The two roommates stood at attention on either side of the bunk beds. Unfortunately for Cal, he was in nothing but a tank-top, boxers and socks. He stood at attention still wincing from the pulsing pain on his forehead. Nene stood near the door, giggling, as her sister moved over in front of Cal.

Klan took the opportunity to look at Cal in his underwear from toe to head. A very mischievous grin remained on her face as she scoffed at what she was looking at. Klan looked around for anything to give them shit about. Since they had not quite unpacked everything, she proceeded to go through Cal's dresser drawers to look for 'contraband'. She inspected the shelf on his bed, and the belongings in the closet. Unable to find anything to reprimand for, she paced back and forth in front of the two new pilots.

"You two are now in Pixie Team. Your asses belong to **me** and if I feel that you can't handle the job, I'll be sure to leave a good boot print as I kick you out the door." Klan paced back in front of Cal and turned to him while finishing her assertion session. "Our team has latrine cleaning duty today. Wagner, since none of us have done it yet, you're the one to get it done. Move out!" "But Ma'am, I'm not wearing--" "NOW!" Klan yelled, pointing to the door. Cal gritted his teeth and jogged out of the quarters. Klan gave Will a quick look on the way out while Nene followed. Will exhaled when the door closed. "She didn't even look through _my_ stuff..." he murmured.

The door to the cleaning supplies closet was partially ajar. Two "wet floor" signs blocked the entrances to the men's and women's bathrooms. Inside one of the restrooms, Cal knelt down as he worked on cleaning one of the toilets. He knows that Klan is intentionally picking on him, but he seems to take it lightheartedly. That is, until a member of the Quarter's cleaning and maintenance crew showed up, surprised to see a pilot in boxers and a tank-top doing latrine duty.

"Hey! What are you doing?" the worker asked. "Huh?" Cal said as he poked his head out of the stall he was working in. "I'm part of the maintenance crew. We're supposed to be cleaning the head," the worker said. Cal turned back towards the toilet he was working on and gritted his teeth again. "_Goddamn that woman..._" he thought to himself as he realized he'd just been put through a bit of a hazing ritual. Who knows what else she's got saved up for him...? Cal turned back to the maintenance worker. "I'm almost done here. Just come back in awhile and you can check to see if I did a good job." The worker left with a confused look on his face.

Cal continued to scrub the toilets while he formulated a way of getting back at Klan for this. The question was, "Is it a good idea?" Perhaps Cal should just take his licks since this must be the standard initiation process that new pilots go through when they join Skull Squadron.

After finishing the bathrooms, Cal sleepily walked back into his quarters. Will was fast asleep and all of the lights were off in the room. Checking the time before going back to bed, Cal realized that he only had a few hours to sleep before he had to get up for his simulator classes.

4 AM came faster than Cal had hoped and his alarm violently played his skull like a set of bongo drums. The hot shower helped a bit, but Cal seemed to drag his feet as he made his way to the classrooms with a thermos full of coffee in his hands. Ozma was to be the proctor of the classes and he patiently waited for the new pilots to show up.

The classes began on time and Ozma started his introduction to the new birds that the pilots would be flying. Cal counted nine other pilots in the class... there's going to be a bit of a learning curve to deal with here. "The VF-25 is the latest variable fighter model available to the Frontier colony. Based off of the designs of the YF-24 Evolution, the fighter boasts the latest advances in engine, avionics, transformation mechanics, and armaments. The inclusion of the Inertia Store Converter system, when combined with existing EX-gears, significantly reduces stresses placed on the pilot during high g-force-inducing maneuvers in space and atmospheric conditions."

The pilots worked to take notes as quickly as their hands could write. Despite being so tired, Cal was excited to hear about the vast improvements over the 171EXs. Perhaps this fighter will give him the room he needs to reach his full potential in combat.

The simulators were as easy as Cal had expected. However, he was very impressed by the changes to the cockpit layout and the performance the simulators showed him. Transformation times were significantly reduced when compared to the 171EX. His simulator was also specialized with the inclusion of the control panels that he will see in his RVF variant. The overall layout was similar, with a few interesting nuances.

Will and Cal exited the classrooms for a lunch break before their scheduled escort shifts. As was expected of the best pilots in the fleet, everyone passed the introduction testing with no issues. At least there's one thing that went right, for a change. Cal had to attend a quick meeting with Luca and the other RVF pilots to roll out their duties before their launching.

With just enough time to grab some food from the mess before his flight time, Cal swiped one of the remaining muffins and refilled his coffee to try to get more caffeine into his system so he will be alert while flying. Leaving the end of the cafeteria line, he walked by the table at which Ozma and Klan were eating. Images of his degradation from last night quickly flashed through his mind. Unable to simply pass by without saying anything, Cal put his neck on the line again.

"Commander," he said, looking at Klan, "I ran into a nice guy from the **maintenance crew** last night. He said I did a great job of cleaning the bathrooms. He also asked me how I got my boxers creased so well. I told him I use a lot of starch." Cal turned and headed to the hangar to join the RVF pilot meeting without anything else to say.

Ozma had stopped chewing for a moment as he stared at Klan, waiting for her to enlighten him on what the hell Cal was talking about. She casually shrugged as if she had nothing to do with it. "No way. In his underwear?" Ozma asked. Klan didn't respond, playing it cool. "I won't believe it until I see it," Ozma said.

Pixie Team patiently waited on the Quarter's tarmac for clearance to launch. Klan opened up a channel to address her team before they took their first flight. "Listen up, maggots! We've got the privilege to spearhead the expeditionary force as we secure the first area of the asteroid field. I want things done by the book. No showboating or being a hero, **Wagner**." Klan had seen Cal yawning as she said that. His face turned a bit red as he realized he'd been seen through the video feed. "Pay attention to that radar screen of yours, Lieutenant. You'll be our eyes out there, since the high EM signatures of the asteroids will make it difficult for us to be able to target anything if we run into trouble. Don't do anything stupid and get yourself killed, alright?" Klan finished.

"Afraid you'll miss me, Commander?" Cal sarcastically asked, "I didn't know you cared, all of a sudden." "Don't get smart with me, Lieutenant. We wouldn't want a repeat of last night now, would we?" Klan said. Nene and Will snickered on their radios.

Jen Wentz gave the team authorization to launch, "Good luck, Pixie Team!" "Thank you," they all replied. Klan led the team off of the tarmac and entered into the holding pattern with her team close behind. Other escort teams were scattered amongst the capital ships, who were also holding a tight defensive pattern. The fleet steadily exited their orbital path around Coral-5 and headed to the Kihnes Asteroid Belt.

Floating freely behind the advancing fleet, the empty husks of the destroyed NUNS ships were accompanied by various wreckages of downed VFs and the carcasses of dead Vajra drones. Perhaps some day, another human or alien fleet will come upon the remains of the battle and reflect upon their own race's mortality.


	13. Settling In

The wind coming off of the sea drove the waves against the partially-submerged Queadol-Magdomilla Zentraedi battleship. Moored against the wharf just on the edges of the new Zentraedi starport, the huge battleship sits peacefully while workers toil to set up a stage on the top of its hull. A couple of Zentraedi solders guide several Queadluun and Nousjadeul power armor suits into position behind the stage area. Nearby, the concert planning committee supervises the construction of the set, in preparation for the concert this evening.

Nanase stands outside of a dressing room, next to a couple of racks of costumes on hangers. No doubt, Ranka is trying out some new costumes for her concert. After a couple of minutes, she emerges from the dressing room, unsatisfied with her costume. Nanase had thrown together a costume that was supposed to emulate a Zentraedi uniform, and it didn't seem to do much for Ranka's tastes. "No... just no."

Nanase began to look Ranka over and tugged at several points on the costume to see if there was anything she could do for it. "I think I have an idea... stay here." She ran over to grab some books nearby, one of which was a history book. Flipping through some pages, she finds what she was looking for. "How about we try _this_?" Nanase says, as she turns the book to show Ranka. The picture was of a Meltran commander from the Space War some 50 years ago. The costume boasted the standard Meltran uniform, but also had a concealing cloak that wrapped around the body.

Immediately, Ranka took a liking to the slight difference in uniforms. "Those Meltrans sure knew how to look good while kicking serious butt back then." "Some things never change, you know. I know Klan will keep our Alto and Luca safe while they're out there," Nanase added. Ranka laughed in response.

Cal could have sworn he just heard a sneeze from Klan over the comm lines. "Someone's talking about you, Commander." "Keep the lines clear, Wagner. We're about to enter the asteroid belt and I need radio silence," Klan ordered. Cal acknowledged and returned his attention to his radar readouts.

A complement of fighters entered the asteroid belt a few kilometers ahead of the rest of the fleet to secure the area. Luca's RVF was one of the first to enter the zone. "Looks clear so far, Commander." Ozma visually scanned the asteroid field to see if his sharp pilot's eyes could see any threats coming in. Satisfied with what he saw, he ordered the squadrons to spread out and finish securing the established operations radius.

Team Pixie moved into their positions to scan the area for any threats. "Split up into two groups of two each," Klan ordered, "Wagner, you're with me." The two teams of fighters searched the larger asteroids for any signs of Vajra nests while Cal paid close attention to his radar console for any anomalies. Sure enough, as they spread out through the asteroids, Cal picked up some blips. Apparently, they've entered into the territory of a nearby hive and the drones are out to defend it with their lives.

"Commander, I've got a handful of drones coming in at 3 o'clock," Cal reported. Klan reported back to Ozma on the incoming bugs and then opened a channel to her team. "Okay, it's showtime. Let's keep it conservative, guys. I don't feel like writing to someone's family how their loved one got killed cuz they did something stupid." Cal moved in behind Klan as she made a straight beeline to the incoming Vajra. "We'll be right there shortly," Nene said, with Will in formation behind her.

"Any bets on who gets the most kills, Commander?" Cal asked. "Hopefully, you won't have to deal with too much. You just cover me so you don't get yourself in over your head. We can't afford to let you get shot down so early in the operation." "There you go again, Commander. I'm beginning to think you don't hate me so much anymore!" Cal jokingly said. Klan scoffed at Cal's meaningless statements and engaged her first target.

"Okay, we have 6 of em to deal with, I'm right behind you, Commander," Cal said as he switched to GERWALK and unloaded a small salvo of missiles. Several missiles missed their targets, but one hit and sent a Vajra fighter-drone spinning off into an asteroid, exploding on impact. "Hey! One down already... Just let me know if you need any help," Cal chattered. Klan had already taken care of a couple of Vajra, but before they could finish cleaning up the other three, Cal picked up another small group of incoming drones.

"Got more of them coming, Commander. It looks like five more. There may be a small hive hiding out somewhere around here," Cal reported. "Trace their routes and see if you can give us an idea as to where it might be," Klan ordered, "Nene, can you and Garrett take those 5 that are coming in?" "We're on it!" Nene said.

Two of the incoming Vajra broke off and headed towards Cal's position as he stayed back from Klan somewhat to give her room to work. "Alright! It looks like I get to see how well these 25s work in actual combat!" Cal was glad that he was going to get some action and switched to fighter mode to intercept the two bugs.

Before Cal could open fire, Klan used the beam cannon on her back to pick off the lead Vajra that was headed towards him. "You take one of my kills, I'll take one of yours!" Klan taunted over the radio. Cal clicked his tongue and decided to test out the melee capabilities of the 25. Dodging the incoming fire in battroid mode, Cal was easily able to close into melee range without taking a shot and placed his knife into the flesh of the fighter-drone, cutting it open longways. The drone wriggled in agony, shortly before it exploded. "There's something about melee that gives you that personal feedback," Cal chattered. "Don't get cocky, Lieutenant. I told you to avoid combat as much as possible." Klan crackled over the radio.

Team Pixie easily dispatched the rest of the Vajra in the area and gathered up into formation to explore the source of the incoming Vajra. Cal had calculated the direction of the source using the incoming trajectory information from the second set of bugs that had joined the fight. Shortly after beginning their search, a larger planetoid appeared to be hollowed out, with several Vajra swarming around its entrance.

"There it is, team. Let's exterminate that nest so we can finally secure the area. Wagner, we'll clear it out and I want you to nape the nest with those incendiary bombs we loaded out on your RVF," Klan ordered. "Why not just use an MDE bomb on them?" Will asked. "Because we don't want to destroy the asteroid belt at the same time and lose the resources contained in these rocks," Cal responded.

The four fighters moved into attack posture to clear out the entrance to the nest, with Cal in the rearward position. The initial salvo of firepower from the group knocked a few of the Vajra down, but enraged the rest of the nest, spawning several more targets from the inside. Klan, Nene, and Will drew their fire and lured them away from the nest to allow Cal a clear shot inside of the asteroid.

The two incendiary bombs detached themselves from the hardpoints under Cal's wings and quickly sped towards their target. "Bombs awayyyy..." Cal jokingly announced. He pulled into a vertical climb to get distance from the asteroid, but drew the attention of two drones who still had not yet left the nest. The incendiary bombs entered the nest and detonated, filling the asteroid with hundreds of pyrotechnic bomblets. Fire roared out of the asteroid's opening, indicating a complete saturation of the cavern.

"Two points!" Cal announced, as he looked back to admire his work. His rearward point of view also allowed him to see the two pursuing Vajra drones. "Oh shit. I've got two of them on me. Time for some more wetwork!" "Wagner, don't get too far away," Klan said. "Don't worry about me, Commander. I can take care of myself."

Cal opened his throttle to full power and boosted away, weaving around several asteroids in an attempt to lose his pursuers. Despite the increase in speed, the drones were able to match his speed and maneuvers. Several Vajra missiles were detected from behind by Cal's radar. "Damn, these guys don't give up easily. Let's see how effective they are when they can't see." The dispensers on the fuselage opened up to release a salvo of the new fold-magnetic chaff Cal was supposed to be testing.

The chaff dispersed in a cloud of metal fragments behind Cal's RVF as it sped away, luring the missiles into impacting on the chaff. The Vajra were noticeably distracted by it, as it seemed to affect their senses considerably. Cal used this opportunity to pull a hook around one of the asteroids and opened fire on the confused Vajra. Both targets were summarily destroyed after each one took several hits from Cal's gunpod fire. "Wow, those were very effective," Cal told himself as he flew to rejoin his wingmates.

The nest within the asteroid continued to burn out as dying Vajra spit out of the cavern's entrance one at a time. Out of the corner of his eye, Cal noticed a very fast blur eject from the asteroid and speed away at an extremely high velocity. As the object reached the edges of his visual range, Cal managed to take a snapshot of the escaping vessel. "Did anyone see that?" Cal asked over the radio. "See what?" the team responded. "Nevermind."

Having dispatched all of the Vajra in the vicinity, Team Pixie monitored the Vajra nest while the burn-out subsided. Klan and Nene entered the cavern to inspect the aftermath and make sure there were no remaining Vajra drones or eggs. "Good shot with those nape bombs, Wagner. The Vajra have been effectively cleaned out of here," Klan said. Satisfied with the results, Klan ordered her team back into escort positions as the fleet began to take its positions within the asteroid belt.

"How many did you get? I got 5 of them myself," Will asked of Cal. "Not bad! I only got four... hundred." "What?! That nest doesn't count!" Will demanded. Cal laughed at Will's defensive response, but Klan wasn't about to let her team get too relaxed, "You guys can brag about your kills when you're on the Quarter. Stay frosty while you're out here, alright?" "Yes'm," the two responded.

Cal felt it necessary to at least notify his commanding officer of the unidentified blur he saw several minutes before. "Commander, I am not sure, but I saw something leaving the nest that I couldn't identify. I only got a very bad picture of its vapor trail. It was moving VERY fast and made it nearly impossible to get any kind of visual record to share with you guys." Cal sent the picture to his teammates for them to see. After a few moments of analyzation, Klan gave her opinion, "This does look very familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it. I'm going to transmit it to the fleet so they can do something with it." Fortunately, for the vigilant defenders, the next few hours went by without any more encounters with the Vajra.

Cal sat in the galley eating his dinner with several of the new pilots of the squadron. Jen Wentz was also off duty and sat right next to Cal while the group shared stories of their recent combat with Vajra drones. She was noticeably doting on Cal as he told his story about burning out the nest of Vajra. Will was doing most of the talking, however. "Those VF-25s are incredible machines. You should have seen me out there taking on those damn bugs. They didn't have a chance!" "Let's not forget about the officers, Will," Cal interjected. "Oh yeah, they were incredible. Those two Zentrans definitely live up to the stories. We're in good hands, for sure."

On the other side of the galley, some of the veteran Skull pilots watched the fledglings interacting with each other. Ozma, Klan, Luca, and Nene ate their meals while discussing the performance of their new pilots. Ozma felt it necessary to draw some opinions from Klan. Even though she's been at the head of Pixie Team for a long time, she's never had to actually recruit new members directly from the NUNS talent pool. She, Nene, and Roramia were always Pixie Team until Roramia's death and the recent reorganization of Skull Squadron.

"How are they doing, Klan?" She looked at Ozma for a moment and gave her answer some thought before speaking again. "It's amazing, really. I feel like I'm responsible for their care until they grow their own wings and fly the coop some day. Now I really feel like I know why it's been such a customary practice to refer to them as 'chicklings'. Even though I come down on them hard, it's an act of tough love. They need to be strong in order to survive out there."

Ozma could see that Klan fully understood her new role. Perhaps the 24-hour hiatus he ordered her to take did more good than he had originally thought. She was once his chickling and he felt a sense of pride seeing that she was taking good care of her own brood now. Ozma leaned over and put his arm around Klan's shoulders in a friendly gesture. "Just remember that you do have to let them go at some point. They won't stay chicklings forever. Make sure you give them the room that they need to grow, because if you restrain them too much, their wings won't sprout."

Klan suddenly remembered that Cal had asked to speak with her when they were returning to the Quarter from their escort duty. "That's good advice, Ozma. I think I will put that into use right now," she said as she finished her meal and excused herself from the table. "Oh!" Klan said, reaching into her jacket, "That 'proof' you said you needed? Here you go." Klan dropped a picture face-down in front of Ozma. Taking a deep breath and putting on her serious side, Klan marched over to the table where Cal was sitting.

Will was the first to notice Klan coming up to their table. "Commander! Come have a seat and join in the fun!" "No, thanks. I just wanted to stop by the kiddie table real fast and make sure you guys were eating your food, instead of wearing it." The table laughed nervously at Klan's cheap shot. "Wagner, you wanted to talk to me?" Klan asked. "Yes'm" "I have some stuff to take care of in the hangar. I'll be in Commander Lee's office, so finish up your dinner and come see me when you're done." Cal nodded with a smile as she continued out of the galley.

The table fell silent as the pilots seemed to watch Klan glide out of the room. All attention was directed towards Cal, who had already started putting food back into his mouth. Noticing everyone looking at him, he looked up from his plate, with his fork still in his mouth. "What?" he muffled. "You still need to tell us the stories of the history that you two have with each other," one of the pilots said. Cal slowly chewed his food while shaking his head. After swallowing he replied, "We're just two hard-headed people, I guess. I've constantly been in hot water ever since I met her because of a streak of defiance I've been going through." "You stood up to her?" another pilot asked. "Look, I don't really want to get into it, but I'll just say that you don't want to see her when she's really pissed off and she's Zentran-ized," Cal said. Imaginations ran wild with scenarios of what that must have been like for Cal.

Feeling rather playful, Ozma decided to join his chickling pilots while they ate and socialized. "So, who wants to share how many kills they got today?" he cheerfully asked as he plopped himself down on one of the booth seats next to one of his new pilots. The demeanor of the table immediately turned amicable as the chicklings were happy to have their squadron commander sharing some time with them. Several pilots blurted out their kill count, trying to vie for Ozma's attention. "Don't make too much of a big deal out of it, guys. Remember, you can't get any more kills if you are dead, so don't get reckless," Ozma said.

The television screen on the wall had been playing Ranka's concert quietly in the background and Ozma had to brag about his little sister. "You see her? That's my very own Ranka..." "Is she your daughter?" one of the pilots asked. The table fell silent as the pilot had inadvertently made an "old man" comment towards Ozma. He was older than everyone there, but he was definitely not old enough to be her father. "She's my little sister, you fool!" Ozma said as he stretched out to his left to deliver a smack to the back of the head. The rest of the table laughed at the pilot's misfortunate statement and subsequent punishment.

The Zentraedi soldiers in the crowd had been thoroughly enjoying the concert being put on just for them. Ranka was as energetic as always, performing her most popular songs with the heart and soul she's learned to use, with coaching help from Sheryl. Backstage, Nanase and Brera commented on the success of the concert.

"She's improved so much since I first met her," Brera stated, "When she first started singing, she always struggled with showing her true heart while she was behind the microphone." Nanase nodded, "Sheryl has been spending some time with her, teaching her how to let loose her inhibitions. It's really starting to show in the quality of her songs."

Ranka finished up her set and only had her finale left. The stage lights went down while the screens showed some computer-generated visualizations of sound waves to keep the fans entertained. Ranka raced to behind the stage for Nanase and Brera to help her into her new costume. The Meltran uniform that Nanase made took little effort to put on. Brera stood by, holding the remaining pieces of the costume while Ranka rushed to get everything on.

A shadowy figure re-emerged onto the stage while the interim music started to fall quiet. The fans' cheering subsided, awaiting the start of the next track. "Seikan Hikou" (Interstellar Flight) began to play on the sound system. The lights turned on and shone on Ranka, revealing her new costume specifically chosen for her final song. The Zentran soldiers went crazy, cheering and whistling for Ranka as she went into her song and dance. "It looks like the costume is a success," Nanase noted to Brera. He simply smiled and nodded as he looked on.

Nearby the Zentraedi battleship that was holding the concert on its hull, Fleet Commander Raozj's enormous Nupetiet-Vergnitzs flagship monitored the concert while its commander looked on. Enjoying his first cup of hot tea, Raozj watched as the young songstress flaunted his peoples' uniform as an homage. "She wears that uniform well," his archivist office noted. Raozj nodded in agreement. One of the bridge officers quietly handed him a tablet.

After waiting some time for it to be read by his commander, the archivist officer asked, "Our deployment orders, Sir?" Raozj nodded, "Much of our fleet will be leaving the planet already. It looks like our colonization may have to wait a bit. This ship will remain here, however. The mission parameters seem to only call for several beam-cannon equipped gunships and some fighter squadrons." The archivist officer stood motionless for a moment while he ran this information through his mind. "The price of freedom is a high one, Sir. These miclones have paid most of it and are continuing to pay for it now. The least we can do is help pick up a bit of the cost."

Ranka finished her song and gave the crowd a bit of time to cheer before bidding them farewell. Shouts of "Ranka!" and "Deculture!" mixed in with the loud roar. "Thank you all for your support! We wish you the best in building a new home here on our planet. One day, I will be able to call you all my 'neighbors'. Good night!" Ranka waved goodbye with exuberance before she turned to leave the stage. The crowd of Zentrans cheered her off and started to disperse.

The crew of pilots, accompanied by Ozma, finished watching the concert from their seats in the galley. Cal had left a bit early to meet with Klan, so given the opportunity, Ozma decided to share a bit of information with the rest of the new pilots... and Jen Wentz. "So, you guys want to see some classified information?" Ozma said, leaning forward as if he had a secret to divulge. The pilots moved in to take part in the secrecy of the conversation as Ozma tossed the picture out in the middle of the table. Grins crept across their faces as they started to laugh simultaneously at what they saw.

Cal walked across the hangar deck thinking to himself how he was going to approach Klan about his concerns. Reaching the door to Ozma's office, he knocked and waited for permission to enter. "Come in," Klan said from the other side of the door. Cal casually entered and took the seat that Klan had offered him. Klan was busily punching in some information on one of the tablets on the desk. "Hang on, I'll be done in just a sec."

After a minute or two, Klan put the tablet aside, folded her hands in front of her and sat up straight in the chair. "What's on your mind, Wagner?" "Well, I wanted to ask you a bit of a favor." Klan's eyebrow perked up slightly. "I understand that my role in the team is reconnaissance and that I'm not really supposed to be 'fighting on the front lines'. I am concerned, however, that you seek to restrict my role as a combat pilot overall. I was sure that I demonstrated to you the competence to be able to defend myself on numerous occasions before I joined Skull Squadron. Why are you so protective of me?"

Klan was a bit surprised at how soon this question was being asked by one of her chicklings. "When you get your own team or squadron some day, you'll understand that becoming a leader means that you are also personally responsible for the well-being of your pilots. Now, normally, I'd be jumping down your throat for questioning my leadership style, but I've had a bit of an epiphany as of late." Cal quickly maneuvered to alleviate any misunderstandings, "No, I am not trying to question you, Commander. I am just trying to understand why it is that you choose to single me out."

Klan sat back in her chair to answer Cal's question. "I'll be honest. I push you hard because I expect a lot out of you. I'm gonna hate myself or telling you this, but I think you're a good pilot. You're still a chickling, though." Cal frowned at the 'chickling' comment again as Klan continued. "You lack structure and discipline. Having spent so much time in the private sector as a pilot, you haven't had the correct environment with which to grow into the real deal."

Cal became frustrated that his past behavior was starting to catch up to him. "That's the favor I'm asking of you. I've made a conscious effort to leave those demons behind me and I just want a chance to prove that." Klan listened to Cal's request again and responded, "I can see that you are sincere. I just want to remind you that my command style is there to keep you from taking on more than you can handle. I know how you pilots think that you're indestructible."

Cal was a little put off by Klan's unwillingness to budge on the issue. He decided to try a bit of a flanking maneuver. "Look, my experiences with you have been nothing short of humbling. When I wrote you that apology letter, I really meant to try to patch things up. The last thing I wanted was to be on your bad side." "Sounds like a smart decision on your part. Let me ask you something that's been bugging me, then." Cal nodded at Klan's request. The counterattack was on. "I want to know why you choose to concern yourself with _my_ well-being. It seems like every time I look around, you're sticking your nose into my business. It's a bit of an annoyance, to be honest."

Cal hadn't realized that Klan noticed his penchant for being around when she needed him the most. She's a lot more observant than he had expected. Now, he needs to try to explain himself without completely spilling the beans about how he seeks to gain her approval as a pilot. Unfortunately, he doesn't see how he's going to get out of this conversation without tipping her off. "Because I know what you're going through right now. It's tough being left alone after you've lost someone who meant more to you than anything else. I thought that it would be nice to talk to who's experienced the pain of loss as I have."

Klan wasn't completely convinced of his motives. Her woman's intuition was blaring alarms on all channels. "There's thousands of other people in the colony who have experienced the same thing as you and I. Why _me_? I wasn't even serving on the same ship as you when we first met." Cal was sensing a bit of a trap and maneuvered to avoid it. "Well, we're both pilots and I wanted to be able to learn everything I could from you, since you're an established ace. You know how it is... I'd been off-duty in the hospital for months and I needed to get back up to speed as quickly as possible," Cal said with a nervous chuckle.

Klan could sense he was unraveling at the seams and gave another prod, leaning forward with her hands together under her chin before she spoke again. "You think that I'm a better pilot than you, so that's why you chose to concern yourself with my affairs?" Something inside of Klan wanted to hear him say it. "Well, I wouldn't put those two statements together so effortlessly. Let's just say that one part indirectly caused the other," Cal said. "Why this change of heart all of a sudden? What happened to the cocky, insolent pilot who felt like rubbing it in my face when he beat me in a duel?" "That's one thing I'd like to put in the past. Yes, I won, but I practically had to cheat to do it. If it wasn't for the unexpectedness of my countermeasures, I would not have lasted nearly as long against you."

Klan was starting to get what she wanted to hear out of Cal. "You got that right. Pilots should be a little cocky, but not so much that it blinds them from the reality that goes on around them. I don't mind a little showboating here and there, but as long as your point of view remains firmly planted on the ground, there shouldn't be any issues. I'll be honest, I was completely against you joining this squadron because I felt like you were not firmly grounded. Hearing you say those things about yourself tells me that you're learning the ways of the pilot quickly."

Sensing he was being backed into a corner, Cal had to make sure he didn't get put into a completely defensive stance. "Look, I'm just gonna cut the bullshit and put it out there. I'm sorry for the way I treated you before. I saw in you someone who I wanted to help with their problems, and at the same time make myself into a better person because of who you are and what you represent to me: one of the best pilots in the NUNS. I saved your life against your wishes because I felt like I couldn't let you give up on yourself and because I had already convinced myself of the value--" Cal stopped himself from saying too much and put his hand up to his mouth.

Klan hopped at the sudden cessation of his statement. "Value of what?" she asked. "I've said too much. I don't want you to get the wrong impression." "What, that you're in love with me?" Klan said with a chuckle, as if the very concept was completely impossible. Cal had not compared that word to the way he valued Klan as something of a role model. "No! That's not it at all. I was... I just hoped that we could come to depend on each other for the support that we need to get through the toughest of times." "Like a friend, huh?" Cal didn't know if he should respond. He chose to remain quiet.

Klan leaned back into the chair to consider Cal's proposal. "You know that from a professional point of view, I must remain your commanding officer. Personally, though... well, let's just say we'll see what happens. I'll consider your requests on both counts. I know you wish to feel less restricted when flying in Team Pixie, so my advice is to work hard to earn that privilege. On the other issue, all I can say is that your efforts to help me are appreciated, but aren't necessary." Cal was a bit let down by her desire to deal with her inner pain on her own. "Sometimes the most meaningful forms of help come when they aren't required. Thank you for your time, Commander," Cal said as he got up and saluted. He turned away and headed for the door.

Cal's disappointment was easily detected by Klan. She quickly convinced herself that she was being a bit of an ogress and stopped Cal from leaving. "Lieutenant," she said, waiting for Cal to turn around and look her in the eyes again. Cal turned to look at her with his hand on the doorknob. "Thanks." "For what?" "For being honest with yourself and with me... and for caring enough to talk to me about it." Cal cracked a smile and nodded as he turned and left the room. Klan sat still behind the desk while he exited. After the door closed, she smiled and leaned back to reconsider everything that they had just said to each other. "Friends, huh?" she said to herself, "We'll see..."

Bright and early the next morning, Cal stood in front of the galley counter, waiting for the cooks to replenish the muffins that had recently run out. He looked at the empty plate with a blank stare, probably lost in his thoughts. A quiet voice snapped him out of his zoned-out state. "Hey." Klan stood next to him in line with several items on her tray. Unsure of what was going through her mind, Cal just simply smiled back in response.

"You're up awfully early. What's the occasion?" Klan asked. "Lieutenant Angelloni is holding a preflight meeting for the RVF pilots. I am just grabbing something to eat before attending." Klan seemed a bit disappointed, for some reason. "Oh. Well, I realized that I forgot to thank you for saving my life the other day, so... Thanks." Cal found her words to be uplifting. Maybe she is willing to look past his mistakes and give him a shot. "How about I make you a deal. I'll keep saving your life, if you keep on saving mine," Cal proposed. Klan smiled and held her hand out for a shake, "Deal. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to go easy on you from now on." Klan stared him down as she applied as much pressure as she could to Cal's hand.

Cal released his hand and looked at Klan with a bit of a confused look. He stared at his hand and brushed it off on his uniform with a smile to indicate that he knew that she was trying to assert herself as the superior officer and pilot. One of the cooks replaced the plate with a new one full of fresh pastries. "I'll see you on the tarmac in a couple of hours," Cal said, bidding her goodbye with his muffin and thermos in hand. "Okay, chickling," Klan responded. Cal rolled his eyes as he walked away.

After attending the RVF pilot's meeting and getting into his flightsuit, Cal casually strolled across the hangar deck. A group of pilots and mechanics had gathered around the squadron message board posted just outside of Ozma's office. Curious to know what the big deal was, Cal approached the group of crew and noticed they were laughing at something posted on the board. Seeing Cal coming closer, the group began to break up and some of them patted Cal on the back as they walked away with a snicker. Upon closer inspection of the message board, Cal found a pinned-up picture of himself in his boxers cleaning the toilet. The picture was taken with him leaning out of the stall with brush in hand, apparently to talk to the cameraman.

Cal realized that the setup was planned that way from the start. The maintenance crew member must have been carrying a hidden camera and snapped his photo without Cal's knowledge. Now the whole ship probably knows about his hazing and there is probably only one person to blame for it. Cal heard a faint snicker behind him and he turned to see where it was coming from. Klan's red Queadluun was already standing on the deck elevator. The faceplate was the only remaining opening on the power armor, and her face was all that Cal could see. Before Cal could even say anything, the elevator began to ascend and Klan lowered the faceplate to completely seal the suit closed. The last thing he could see was the mischievous grin on her face.

Out in space, Cal debated on whether or not he should be upset about the candid picture of him cleaning the bathrooms in his underwear. He decided that to do so would be in poor sportsmanship, since it's the standard type of hazing ritual that he had heard so much of while he was test piloting and when he first joined the NUNS.

Team Pixie continued to serve its purpose as escort and security of the fleet in its respective sector. The prospecting operations had started and Cal remained glued to his sensor readouts, looking for any incoming bogies and tracking the occasional defolding of small groups of ships. The prospecting teams were using barge-type ships to carry their equipment and several miclone-sized power armor suits to help them move around amongst the innumerable planetoids in the asteroid belt.

After several hours of watching the activity going on in the local space, Cal's sensor array began to detect another series of large defold signatures. "Commander, we have massive incoming!" he reported. "Relax, Wagner, it's just our fleet reinforcements," Klan said as the ships could be clearly identified as Zentraedi. "Tch... Thanks for letting me know _ahead_ of time," Cal snapped. "Yeah, I could have told you, but I thought I'd let you sweat it out for a second." Cal was a bit glad that Klan was getting her sense of humor back. Between this and the hazing prank, he's fairly certain that she's on her way to regaining her old self... whatever that was like.

On the Quarter's bridge, Captain Wilder greeted the new ships to his fleet. "We're glad you could join the party up here, Captain. We'll definitely need the extra firepower you and your men can provide. These damned Vajra are quite formidable when in large groups." "We look forward to assisting you in your operation. My men and I are hoping to see a little bit of action in the coming weeks. Please send us approach vectors so we can position our ships into the fleet's formation," the Zentran captain responded.

It looks like the fleet operations have received a much-needed upgrade to their combat capabilities. The beam-cannon-equipped Zentraedi ships should be what they need to deal with any Vajra carriers that threaten the fleet from here on out.


	14. Strategic Proliferation

After the first full day of fleet operations in the Kihnes Asteroid Belt, progress was being made in setting up the mining operations to get some resources flowing back to the colony on Aimo. Only the most mineral-rich asteroids are chosen for mining, so as to reduce the environmental impact on the natural state of the asteroid belt. Intense reduction in the mass of the planetoids could cause rogue asteroids to leave their natural orbits and fly loosely around the system, controlled only by the gravity of the Coral star and its planets. Careful planning and restoration measures are executed, so as to leave as little of a mark as possible. The first automated mining stations are being deployed as the fleet prepares to move to the next staging area. Only a handful of cruisers will remain with the mining stations to maintain a semblance of security for the incoming and outgoing shuttlecraft that have the job of transporting the raw materials back to Aimo.

Team Pixie stands ready to deploy, if called upon, to support the expeditionary fighters that have moved forward from the fleet to secure the new section of the asteroid belt. Ozma and his team are at the lead of the formation and are the first to spot several Vajra drones, who are cruising their territory looking for intruders.

Special efforts have been made to try to avoid contact with the Vajra nests, after some protest from sympathetic NUNS personnel. The command officers agreed that the Vajra, although hive-minded, deserve the right to live and have their own territory. However, rules of engagement have been disseminated amongst the fleet to give the soldiers the ability to defend themselves and their motherships. Hives that demonstrate aggressive territorial behavior are to be eradicated, much like the Africanized honeybees of Earth.

Luca watches several Vajra on his radar readout with apprehension. "Commander, should we engage them?" he asks. "Only if we're attacked, Luca. Remember the new rules of engagement. We want to avoid contact with the Vajra, if possible. The last thing we need to deal with is another fight and more lost lives. The standard radius of 500km around an established hive should leave plenty of room for the fleet to move about the asteroid belt without too many scrapes into Vajra territory."

Ozma needed to identify the position of the nearby Vajra nest, in order to set the boundaries for the rules of engagement. "Luca, give me a vectoring of where the bugs are coming from," Ozma ordered. Luca punched up the calculations, based on the pathing of the Vajra drones he had been tracking for some time. Upon receiving the results, Ozma ordered his team into the proposed Vajra territory to find the nest.

"Remember team, avoid engaging any drones in combat. If you do, only act in self-defense. Use your countermeasures to disable and distract, but not to destroy. Only I can authorize the termination of any enemy craft, got it?" he barked over the comm lines. "Yes, Sir!" The four VFs dove into the uncharted area in tight formation.

As was expected, a local group of patrolling drones moved in to intercept the intruding Valkyries. Luca alerted the team of the incoming, "Commander, we have 4 drones moving to intercept at 4 o'clock!" Ozma opened his throttle to full power and ordered his team to follow closely behind. The super packs equipped on the VFs gave them the extra speed they needed to get in and get the job done with as little contact as possible.

Luca's eyes frantically shot from his console to in front of his RVF, looking for drones and the nest and trying not to run into any asteroids that happen to be in the way. Incoming Vajra fire forced him to break his formation and take a slightly different trajectory. Having maxed out their throttles, the rest of Luca's team had to double back to protect him. "Hang in there, Luca!" Ozma yelled as he pulled a sharp turn around one of the asteroids. The group of Vajra was quickly descending onto Luca's position and opened fire with everything they had. Luckily, Luca had managed to avoid getting hit by the projectile fire, but there was a large cluster of missiles headed his way.

Desperate to defend himself, Luca changed his VF into battroid and opened fire on the missiles with his gunpod. Several of the missiles were shot down, but the rest charged towards him with merciless zeal. Luca switched back to fighter mode to try to outrun the missiles and to use his chaff to distract them. The chaff dispersed in a metallic cloud behind him, causing the missiles to impact on the false targets. Unfortunately, one missile did not detect the chaff and continued towards Luca. Too close to afford to lose speed by transforming, Luca could only depend on his teammates, or a miracle, to save him. Ozma helplessly watched as Luca stayed out of his effective weapons range while trying to outrun the missile. "Luca!" Ozma yelled.

The missile crept closer and closer and finally exploded upon impact. Luca was jarred in his cockpit by the concussion blow from the explosion. Looking back up to his console to see if he was hit, the readouts only informed him of the destruction of one of his Ghost fighters. "Simon!!!" he yelled, realizing one of his precious drones had been annihilated by the Vajra missile. Programmed to protect Luca, the drone sacrificed itself to achieve its specified purpose.

Ozma saw that Luca was still okay, but Luca was shaken emotionally. His attachment to his creations bordered on fatherhood for him. Luca gritted his teeth as he fought back the tears he wanted to shed for his fallen "child". Ozma did not want to take any chances on any of his pilots getting shot down. "Guys, we have to destroy these drones. You're authorized to use deadly force, so let's give it to 'em." He turned his attention back towards Luca as he and the rest of the team moved to engage the group of drones. "Luca, have you found that nest yet??" Luca put himself back together to do his job. He scanned the immediate vicinity for any signs of the nest. "I found it, Commander. I am sending you its coordinates."

Ozma worked with the rest of the team to destroy the Vajra drones, finishing off the last one with a missile kill. "Okay, team let's tag that nest and get the hell out of here." They formed back up on Ozma's wing and remained on the lookout for more defensive drones.

Upon approaching the nest, Luca readied himself to fire a marker beacon into the rocky formations on the outside of the planetoid. Several Vajra who were defending the entrance engaged the team of VFs once more. "Fire, Luca!" Ozma ordered; in a hurry to escape before the Vajra could fully engage them. The harpoon-like missile shot away from the underside of Luca's wing and sped towards its target at high speed. Meeting the solid rock of the hollowed-out asteroid, the harpoon dug itself in and deployed. Four claw-like appendages peeled away from the transmitter module like a banana rind and grappled the rocky surface. The now-exposed transmitter telescoped an antenna outward and began to send the beacon signal.

"Beacon A-3 has deployed successfully. Now receiving the transmission with 98% clarity," Luca announced. "Now that the nest has been lit up like a Christmas tree, we shouldn't have any problems staying out of their territory. Return to the defensive perimeter quickly!" Ozma ordered. The other pilots had no problem following that order, as they turned a 180 and made for the safety of the supporting craft waiting outside of the 500km limit.

The pursuing Vajra were not about to let the intruders escape unharmed. They followed each VF closely, opening fire on them at every opportunity. The skill of the pilots helped them evade any hits initially, as they approached the 500km line. Layers of chaff clouds left behind in the escape helped to keep the missiles at bay.

At the defense perimeter, Alto and his team lay in wait for Ozma's team to pass them by. Any Vajra that pass the 500km mark were to be destroyed. As each fighter exited the designated Vajra territory, the pilots breathed a sigh of relief. Luca was the last to make the escape and took a hit on his radome by Vajra projectile fire. The sensor readouts on Luca's bird went haywire and eventually displayed damage readouts of the hit that was taken on the sensor array. Several Vajra peeled off of their attack paths to return to the nest and resume guard duty. Only a couple of them exceeded the 500km limit and were summarily destroyed by Alto's team.

Luca was relieved to still be alive, given that he almost got shot down a couple of times during this little sortie. "Commander, why are these Vajra so predictable and docile? The ones that attacked us near Coral-5 were far more aggressive and worked very well as a group to achieve their mission. It's like we're fighting mere pests right now." Ozma didn't really have an explanation for Luca's observations. "That's a good question. All I can say right now is 'they're working on that'," he replied. "Luca, head back to the Quarter and get yourself fixed up. The RVF in Alto's team can fill in for you while we continue to secure the area." Ozma ordered.

Teary-eyed over the loss of his Ghost drone, Luca acknowledged and returned to the Quarter for repairs. In his mind, he sought to come up with a way to defend himself without putting him or his Ghost fighters in too much danger. These nest-tagging runs are extremely dangerous... especially for an RVF pilot. There was one person who he thought might be able to help, though.

The Quarter's hangar was fairly empty, as most of the fighters were out on active duty. Two Queadluuns stood against the back wall and a VF-25 and RVF-25 were parked in loading positions, ready to get into space at a moment's notice. Aside from a couple of mechanics tossing a ball back and forth to each other in the expansive open spaces, there was no activity going on.

In the briefing room next to Ozma's office, Cal and Will sat wearing their flightsuits and watching TV to pass the time during their 'on-call' status. Once again, Cal was subjecting someone to his love of watching documentaries. "Can we watch something that doesn't put me to sleep, please?" Will begged of him. "Oh come on, this stuff is very informative. Where else are you going to get so much insight into history and how things work? Like this show, for example... It gives you an insight to how the Zentrans and Humans learned to live on Earth as a single society. You just take that stuff for granted, don't you?" Cal inquired. "Um, yeah... having lived on the same colony ship as Zentrans all your life... It's hard _not_ to take it for granted."

Cal shook his head at the seemingly simple-mindedness of Will's statements. "If you only tried to imagine humanity before the Space War 50 years ago. Although we were nearly wiped out, it set us in motion to conquer the stars. If not for our indomitable spirit and the Zentrans, none of this would be possible. I bet you could ask any Zentran and they'd say pretty much the same thing I just did." "I'll take that bet. Let's go ask," Will quickly responded as he got up and headed to the door. Cal hesitantly followed Will, knowing he was gonna go look for Klan and/or Nene.

As was expected, the two sisters were patiently waiting near the micloning chambers, already in their natural sizes. The process does take some time, so it was more prudent to have them ready to hop into their Queadluuns if Pixie Team was called out to reinforce the fleet defenses. The two Meltrans sat quietly at a huge table set, apparently playing a card game with each other.

Will poked his head into the enormous room. "Knock! Knock!" he said as he checked to make sure it was okay to go in. He saw the two Meltrans at the table and casually strolled in, with Cal following behind him rolling his eyes. "What is it?" Klan asked. "We have a question for you two. Do you ever consider what the Zentraedi race was like before the Space War a long time ago?" Confused at the question, Klan and Nene looked at each other, trying to figure out where this came from.

"Before the Zentraedi met Humanity, we were a race that aimlessly patrolled the stars in search of a fight and nothing more. At no point would I desire such a life and I think I can speak for all Zentrans in our colony when I say that we're grateful that our ancestors chose to coexist with Humans, rather than destroy them. That one decision has led us to where we are here. In no way would we have found the happiness and the desire to live freely according to our own choosing without the help of Humans," Klan replied. Nene nodded in complete agreement as she looked back down to Cal and Will standing near the door to the hangar.

Cal turned to Will and punched him in the shoulder. "See, I **told** you! Your ignorance will not go unpunished!" Cal said as he dragged Will out of the room by his arm. Klan and Nene were even more confused than before while they watched the two leave. "What was that about?" they both simultaneously asked each other. "Today, we start your education," Cal said as the two re-entered the briefing room. Looking for some more educational programming to torture Will with, Cal searched the television directories for some good starter material.

Before he could find a suitable choice, the PA system in the hangar warned the maintenance crew of an incoming craft that had taken some damage. Cal and Will ran out of the briefing room to see several mechanics rushing to their positions as Luca's RVF-25 descended the deck elevator in fighter form. The radome had taken severe damage from Vajra fire, but the rest of the VF was otherwise fairly unscathed. Certain that Luca was physically okay, Cal and Will casually strolled up to the docking area to greet Luca as he emerged from the cockpit. Klan and Nene looked on from the doorway to make sure everything was okay.

Descending from his cockpit, Luca noticed Cal and Will waiting for him. The two pilots saluted and greeted him, "Battle scars, eh Lieutenant?" Luca was still a bit distraught about losing Simon. "Lieutenant Wagner, I wanted to ask you a favor..." Luca said, turning his gaze at Will, "...in private." Will got the message and excused himself. Luca led Cal over to the corner of the hangar between the entrance to the briefing room and the path leading to the micloning tanks. Klan did her best to remain unseen on the other side of the wall and listened to their conversation through the opening in the doorway.

"Yes, sir?" Cal asked of Luca. Still uncomfortable with the formal titles, Luca felt it necessary to correct Cal. "Please don't call me 'Sir'. We're the same rank and you're a few years older than me." "That may be so, but you're the senior reconnaissance officer, so that means I salute you," Cal responded. Luca sighed at the truth of Cal's response, "Look, just do me that favor. All of us who have been in Skull Squadron for awhile are on a first-name basis. Since we're all on the same side, I can consider you all to be my friends. Just call me 'Luca', okay?" Cal straightened up with a bit of a surprised look, but saw no problem with fulfilling Luca's request.

He leaned forward and placed his hand on Luca's shoulder. "Okay, _Luca_, what can I do for you?" Smiling at the more personal formality from Cal, Luca made his request. "I need your help on becoming a more effective RVF pilot. I've heard that you fly your bird well and I think I can use some pointers." Luca became more discreet with his voice, leaning forward to continue with his request. "I know you're testing out some new countermeasures for Bell-Casse Dynamics. I want to know if you think they're worth using to help me defend myself out there."

Cal was very surprised that one of the Skull pilots was asking _him_ for combat advice. "I'd be more than happy to show you a few tricks, Luca. The countermeasures testing part... well, I can't really divulge too much information on that since it's still classified information. However, I think we can talk to Commander Lee about it and see what he thinks." Luca's face shone with excitement as he had found a bit of an opportunity to connect with a fellow wingmate. Cal's enthusiasm was obvious as he put his arm around Luca's shoulders and walked him back to where the RVF's were parked at. "Okay, the most important thing to remember is to always plan your next moves ahead of time. It's like playing pool. Set yourself up for the next shot before you've even made your first one. This way, you will always have time to plan an escape should things not go the way you planned them to..."

Klan had poked her head out just enough to see the two walking away. Cal was showing excitement as he made gestures with his free hand to demonstrate what he was saying to Luca. Yet again, one of her chicklings is showing signs of growing strong enough to fly the coop some day. She made a mental note to herself on how easily Cal opened up to Luca after they removed the formality barrier from in between them.

Several minutes passed until one of the mechanics approached Luca about the condition of his RVF. "Lieutenant, the radome needs to be replaced, but it won't be easy. The roots that connect the tower to the fuselage have been burned up inside. We need to rewire it before you can get back out there." Luca didn't seem to be surprised. "How long is it going to take?" "At least a couple of hours..."

Klan approached the three to ascertain the situation. "What's going on?" Luca turned to respond, "The mechanics say it will take a couple of hours to repair my bird. Ozma is out there without an RVF in his team while I'm in here." Klan thought about this predicament for a moment before Cal began to try to get her attention. "Ooh! Ooh! Pick me!" he said, raising his hand and hopping in place like a child waiting to be selected to a dodgeball team in school.

Klan raised her eyebrow at the peculiar behavior coming from Cal, but made her decision. "Wagner, get on out there and fill in for Luca." "Yessss..." he said, turning towards his RVF. "Wagner!" Klan barked. Cal turned around to find out what else she wanted. "You be good out there. I don't need Commander Lee coming down on me because one of my chicklings can't behave while on duty," she said with a smirk. Cal straightened up and saluted, "Yes'm!" Luca watched the exchange with a puzzled look on his face.

Just as Ozma was beginning to wonder what was taking Luca so long, Cal's voice crackled over his radio. "Lieutenant Wagner here. I'm replacing Lieutenant Angelloni for the remainder of his shift," Cal said as he approached Ozma's position and saluted in battroid form. "What's the deal with Luca?" Ozma asked. "The mechanics said his bird wouldn't be fixed for a couple of hours. Commander Klang ordered me to reinforce your team for the remainder of your shift." Seems like Ozma didn't have much of a choice in the matter, since Cal seemed so eager to pick up some extra flying time. "Okay, Wagner. We're depending on you as our eyes out here." Ozma's team broke formation away from Alto's team, now that he had an RVF to guide them once again.

The command deck on the Macross Quarter had a certain feeling of apprehension hanging in the air. Captain Wilder had entered his office to conduct a fleet-wide meeting of ship captains with representatives of the Joint Chiefs and Frontier Government. The large viewscreen on the wall of his office was broken into multiple frames, concurrently showing the live video feed each of the individuals in the meeting. Monica Lang was standing in the background behind Captain Wilder, who was sitting in his chair. She held numerous notes and tablets in her arms, ready to assist Wilder, should the need arise for her to have to pull up some numbers or other information related to the meeting.

Wilder spoke to begin the conversation, acknowledging the participants. "Now that everyone is here, I'd like to get to the point as quickly as possible." Monica administered the visual aids of the presentation by transmitting charts and graphs digitally, alongside Wilder's image. "Phase 2 of the operation is proceeding on schedule. Several autonomous mining stations have been established and put into operation. The first shipments of ores and minerals will be ready for pickup within 24-48 hours and we have stationed a garrison of ships to keep the area secure from any pesky Vajra who happen to come across our operations."

A consortium of representatives from Frontier Government and the NUNS Joint Chiefs occupied a single box on the screen and most of what Wilder was saying was directed at them. A few of the most-tenured ship captains occupied the rest of the boxes on the screen. The consortium replied to Wilder's first statements. "You mentioned to us the significant Vajra presence in the asteroid belt. What is your overall impression of the dangers that their presence brings?"

Thoughts of the loss of lives from the Vajra attack near Coral-5 immediately entered into Captain Wilder's mind. He dipped his head for a moment to think about the situation before answering. "The Vajra have caused undeniable losses to the fleet. However, their behavior and attack strategies have been difficult to predict. There seems to be a distinction between each nest's behavior. One set that we've seen show the Vajra are a territorial, yet somewhat docile social structure. The other set exhibits extreme aggressiveness and have been the main source of our defensive focus."

The members of the consortium began to show some concern over the reports of Vajra attacks. "Have you formed any facts or opinions on the difference in their behavior from nest to nest?" Wilder shook his head, "We don't have any definitive evidence or clues, except for a single photo that was taken by one of my RVF pilots." Monica punched into her tablet to show the picture to all those in the meeting. A couple of the Joint Chiefs officers began to murmur to each other as they discussed the picture they were being shown. Wilder continued his report, "I've heard about pilots occasionally reporting 'ghost-like' images nearby the aggressive nests and we all agree that this can't be just coincidence."

Most of the ship captains and NUNS officers nodded in agreement. One of the Joint Chiefs officers took the opportunity to respond, after discussing the image with another officer. "It's a VF-27," he simply said. Some of the captains and officers reeled back in their chairs in surprise. "Are you sure?" one government official asked. The Joint Chiefs officer nodded. "Then if this is true, it confirms that Macross Galaxy is somewhere nearby; either in this system, or within a few light years," Wilder said. He drew a heavy sigh as he began to understand that his job was getting harder by the day.

The Joint Chiefs officer continued with his opinion, "Given Galaxy's extensive knowledge of cybernetics and Vajra social structures and anatomy, I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out that they are somehow controlling the swarm. These developments confirm that the mere existence of Galaxy is a threat to the security and safety of this colony and our forces." The rest of the officers nodded in agreement.

Wilder responded to the officer's statement, "We haven't forgotten our mission objectives, Sir. The fleet stands ready to respond to any threats brought upon us by either the Vajra or Galaxy. The influence of Galaxy would explain the sudden improvement in the assault tactics by the Vajra. I also agree to that statement that Galaxy must be behind this erratic behavior. We will remain vigilant as we continue this operation."

Another admiral began to punch something into his tablet in front of him. "Captain, we're concerned about the readiness of your ship. I would like for you to take on at least two command-level officers to help support you on your ship. I don't feel that you're able to fully conduct your duties as Fleet Captain and be in charge of your ship at all times." Wilder didn't like what he was hearing. "But, Sir, I--" "Captain, this is an order. Either follow it, or relinquish your temporary rank as Fleet Captain and I can find someone who's more willing to comply." Wilder gritted his teeth and begrudgingly accepted his orders, "Yes, Sir." "I'm sending you a list of recommendations for you to choose from. These people are more than competent to support you on whatever you need help with." Wilder noted the incoming information on his console.

Monica changed the visual aid on a gesture from Wilder. He continued, "Here is a brief summary of the mining conditions in the asteroid belt. As you can see, the M-class asteroids are plentiful, allowing us enormous opportunity to harvest the abundant metals and ores contained within them. Good news, indeed, but that's not the best news. Our geologists have discovered trace amounts of the mineral kopalite on some of the S-type asteroids. As you all probably know, kopalite is an extremely rare mineral that can be processed and combined with space metal to form a super-hard alloy that matches the strength and durability of standard battleship and VF armor, with half of the weight. The next few days will give us a better indication of the density of kopalite in this belt."

Just about everyone in the meeting was surprised to hear the good news. Several officers and government officials began to murmur to each other; probably about how they'd like to implement the new alloy into their own pet projects. The meeting continued as they covered procedural and trivial items on the agenda.

After concluding the meeting, Wilder reclined back in his chair and lowered his cap over his eyes to think for a moment. Monica put down her tablet and notes and started to rub his shoulders. "Are you going to be okay?" Wilder sighed before answering, "We need to confirm Galaxy's influence over the Vajra. Only by establishing that certainty, can we formulate a plan of action. Until then, we have to continue our operations as planned and wait for them to make the first move. I don't like waiting..." Monica felt like she had to do something to make him feel better. "We're ready to do whatever it takes. If you need help, don't hesitate to ask."

In Captain Wilder's mind, he had to recognize that Monica has been showing the desire and knowledge needed to command a starship. He may have to do what it takes to draw out those traits from her so she can begin to grow into an officer soon. He will definitely need her help in the coming weeks, in order to ensure the success of the operation.

Ozma waited in his office after returning from his escort duties. Cal had requested to speak with him regarding Luca's request earlier. Before either pilot arrived, Klan entered the office in her miclone form. Ozma looked up from his paperwork to see who it was. "Oh, good... I was considering having you sit in for this one." Klan was confused as to what Ozma was talking about. "'This one'? I just came in to drop off these pilot rosters for our next set of shifts." "Wagner told me about his conversation with Luca about proliferating some of the countermeasures he's been testing. By the way, that was a good call having him go out there to substitute for Luca."

Klan was still confused. "He volunteered to go." "He told me you ordered him to go. I wonder why he'd--" Ozma stopped as the door opened. Cal and Luca entered the office, shutting the door behind them, and saluting. "Have a seat, you two," Ozma invited. Cal and Luca sat in the two chairs in front of Ozma's desk. Klan chose to stand next to Ozma with her hands behind her back.

Ozma sat back in his chair and started the conversation, "Luca, Lieutenant Wagner here tells me you approached him about using some of the countermeasures he's been testing out." Luca nodded and responded, "Yes, Sir. After nearly getting shot down earlier today, I thought that I might need something to help me stay alive longer if we have to avoid using lethal force when tagging the docile nests." Ozma turned his attention to Cal. "How do you think that the countermeasures are working out? Do you see them as being worth the loadout?"

Cal had a lot of good things to say about the results so far. "Yes, Sir. The flashbangs have been quite a success," he said as he smiled at Klan, "But they only seem to be effective against human pilots. I've only gotten a single chance to use the fold-magnetic chaff and it worked out **great **against the Vajra. The EM and fold masking module is also showing a lot of promise, as it has been proven to reduce the signatures of the RVF and any nearby VFs. I'd recommend proliferating them to Lieutenant Angelloni, but it's not my decision. Bell-Casse will need to give permission before we do it."

Turning back to Luca, Ozma continued, "I think your experience in doing the testing for a lot of LAI's newest technologies will give Bell-Casse something to chew on while they consider our request." Cal was surprised to hear that Luca was involved in testing as well. "You work with LAI?" Cal asked. Klan, Ozma, and Luca smiled at the question. Ozma answered Cal's question, "You're looking one of the heirs to the LAI corporation." Cal turned to Luca and grabbed his shoulder, giving a gentle shake, "I thought your last name was awfully familiar. Well, I am in the presence of a celebrity in this field, huh?"

The words of appreciation embarrassed Luca a little bit. "I think that Bell-Casse will be willing to make some arrangements for me. We've worked with them in the past on some of their projects. It shouldn't be too hard to ask that favor of them."

Feeling obligated to mention the other part of his request, Luca leaned forward in his chair to speak. "I also asked Lieutenant Wagner to show me some of the techniques he uses to fight. I've become too dependent on using my Ghost drones to do the fighting for me. I think it would be best if he and I work together to implement the systems on my RVF and get me up to speed on how to use them effectively."

Ozma looked at Klan, who had her arms crossed at this point. She simply nodded, signifying her approval. He leaned forward to speak. "Okay, I will go ahead and make the request. Until we've gotten approval, I want you two to keep this to yourselves. As far as helping Luca out with some techniques, I see no issues with it. You guys can spend some of your spare time working something out. For now, though, the squadron has the day off tomorrow. I expect you guys to catch up on some R&R before going back into the full swing of things."

Cal and Luca left the hangar area continuing to discuss combat techniques and seemingly enjoying the conversation with each other. Ozma and Klan were pleased to see one of their new pilots starting to fit in just fine. It seems that Luca has found himself something of a new friend too.


	15. Sneak Attack

The next morning breathed an air of relaxation all through the living decks of the Quarter. All of the pilots in Skull Squadron had the entire day to themselves, thanks to Ozma's arrangements. The common areas of the ship were sure to be bustling with activity, since the pilots had plenty of time to get to know each other on a more personal basis. Unbeknownst to many of the newer pilots, they were going to come under an attack of a different type of "enemy" today.

Cal sat in his quarters at the small table for two, enjoying his first cup of coffee in the morning. He had a small paperback book opened in one hand, while he used the other hand to drink his coffee. Just as he was beginning to appreciate the quietness of his quarters this morning, the door burst open and Will dashed in. Dripping wet and holding a single washcloth in front of his crotch, he stood inside the door, panting and looking at Cal with distraught eyes.

Cal's reaction was as slapstick as could be expected. Having just started taking a sip of his coffee, he almost inhaled the whole cup, burning his mouth. Of course, he spit the coffee out all over the table. Fortunately, he had lifted the book up beforehand, but the rest of the items on the table were not as lucky as they received a thorough coffee-bathing.

"What the **hell** Will?" Cal exclaimed, while covering his eyes and writhing in pain in his chair "My eyes! My eyes! I've been blinded!" "Some asshole took my towel and clothes from the bench next to my shower stall. I looked all over the empty locker room and could only find this washcloth to cover myself. I almost got back here unseen until I started coming down this hall. A couple of mechanics saw me and I had to run in here before they started laughing."

Will stared at Cal while he began to suspect who the prankster was. "It was _you_, wasn't it?" Cal vehemently denied any involvement in the recent mischief. "Goddammit, put some clothes on, Will. I was just about to go get some breakfast, but you took care of my appetite. Thanks..." Cal said as he continued to cover his eyes. Will shuffled through his drawers and pulled out another uniform set before using the bathroom in the quarters to change.

Cal grumbled as he looked for something to clean the coffee off of the table. "_I'd better watch out or I might find myself on the receiving end of more hazing,_" he thought to himself. He remembered the bathroom-cleaning incident and the subsequent photograph of him in his boxers being posted in the public eye. It looks like it's open season for practical jokes today.

A knock at the door warned Cal of possible incoming. Carefully opening the door to peek at who was on the other side, the cheery face of Nene met Cal's eyes. "Good morning, Lieutenant. I, um, _found_ this uniform and I thought it might belong to Ensign Garrett. Can you give it to him for me?" Will emerged from the bathroom just in time to see the exchange between Cal and Nene. She continued down the hall after saying "goodbye", closely followed by her sister. Klan casually looked at Cal from the corner of her eye as she passed by; a wicked grin was visible on her face.

Cal slammed the door shut to keep her from getting in, if that was what was about to happen. He stood with his back against the door, ready to brace it against any forcible entry. Will's neatly-folded uniform was still in one of his hands. Will raised his quivering hand and pointed at the door, "Was that-?" Cal nodded and responded before Will could finish his sentence, "It was _them_." Will gritted his teeth as he planned a horrible revenge to get back at Nene and Klan.

"I don't know about you, but I think I'm gonna stay in here for awhile, lest I fall into another trap," Will stated. Cal thought for a minute about the advantages of staying out of sight while the assault raged on throughout the living areas of the ship. He shook his head before answering, "No. I'm not going to let those two intimidate me from doing whatever I want today. You can stay here if you'd like. I'm going to the mess, now that I am getting my appetite back." Cal opened the door and peered outside to see if there was any signs of an ambush. He then darted out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

The galley was still relatively empty, but Cal cautiously entered and grabbed his breakfast. He took a seat next to a couple of the new pilots who were sitting at their usual spot. "This may be a weird question, but have you guys encountered anything 'unusual' going on around here today?" Cal asked. The two pilots looked up from their plates with inquisitive looks on their faces. Cal frowned, hoping to hear some stories already, "I guess not, huh?"

Before any other words could be said, another pair of pilots sat down at the table. Their faces were screaming "Don't ask" as they worked to cope with their unfortunate encounters this morning. One pilot's hair was bright red, the other's mouth was completely stained black, including his lips. They forcefully ate their food, disgusted by their own appearance. Cal was doing his best to hold in his laughter. Only the fear of getting hazed again helped him keep his serene composure.

Finally, the two hazed pilots admitted what had happened. "Dye in the shampoo." "Dye in the toothpaste." It seemed like telling everyone at the table what had happened helped them to laugh it off a little bit. "I am wondering if I'm going to be hit again. Or maybe not, since I have already been hazed," Cal confidently stated. The other pilots looked at each other and laughed a bit, remembering the picture they had seen of Cal in his boxers. "I sincerely doubt it," one of the pilots responded.

A few more pilots and ship personnel entered the galley and picked up some food, but didn't appear to have been hit yet. These hazing rituals may not be strictly for pilots, as it would make sense for the newest crew members to be susceptible to the foul play of their veteran shipmates. Paranoid about his fate, Cal continued to pick at his food and inspect it for any surprises that might be hidden inside. He eyed his drink for any foreign liquids that might have found their way into his glass.

Quickly finishing his food and excusing himself from the table, Cal had to find a place to go where he was less likely to be found. His quarters was too easy, so he decided that since the squadron had the day off, nobody would expect to be found hanging around their bird in the hangar. Those Skull pilots were a sneaky bunch, though. They'd probably seen every trick in the book by now.

Upon entering the hangar, Cal could see several new items hanging on the squadron message board. "Oh no..." he said to himself as he approached. Already, the veteran pilots had taken pictures of their work and posted it for everyone to see. These pictures were sure to last for a very long time, since they were so proud of their efforts. Cal recognized several of the pilots who had already been hit. His own picture was now accompanied by several others, displaying their humiliation for all to see.

Cal noticed a pile of tubes of paint and some brushes, still wet from recent use. Fearing the vandalization of his bird, Cal ran over to find out if there was any "damage" done. Sure enough, it looked like Klan had already come through with her branding. A huge, crudely-drawn, yellow chick was painted on the side of the fuselage, close to the canopy. Underneath the drawing, was his name with the word "The Chickling" in between, as if it was his new nickname. "Lt. J.G. Calvin 'The Chickling' Wagner," Cal read out loud as he marveled at the handiwork. He glanced over to Will's VF, which had pretty much the same thing painted on the fuselage. The writing was a bit different, indicating that someone else had done Will's plane. The author had painted a caricature of herself as a signature. The pink hair made it obvious that Nene was responsible for the defacing of Will's bird.

Jen Wentz arrived in the galley to get her breakfast and was dumbfounded by the strange activity going on. Having seen the hazed pilots for the first time, she looked at each one of them with confusion written all over her face. She tried not to let it slow her down as she approached the mess line. Her thoughts wandered to Cal's condition, as she wondered what kind of trouble he might be getting into today. Since today was the squadron's day off, she knew that it would be a good chance to get back with him and see if she can get any indications from him on whether or not he's interested in pursuing something more than just mere "acquaintance" at this point. Cal was definitely in trouble for allowing their relationship to deteriorate this far. Jen pulled out her cell phone and began to punch in a text message.

In the darkest corner of the mess, three pilots sat together feeling completely mortified. Bobby had used their faces as canvasses for his work. Mimicking Alto's character, Princess Sakura from "Sakurahime Azuma Bunsho", the pilots sported snazzy makeup that gave them the same appearance as the now-famous performance. Like clockwork, Alto showed up to rub it in. He dropped in behind two of the pilots and put his arms around each of their shoulders. "So, since you guys have made it abundantly clear to constantly remind me of my previous career, I figured this would be appropriate. I wouldn't try to take any of this makeup off or you might make it even worse," Alto said as he turned around and gave a thumbs-up to Bobby. Jen could be seen in the background trying to contain the laughter.

Halfway through her breakfast, Jen felt her phone vibrate on her hip, telling her that she received a text message. Her heart skipped a beat from the breaking of the anticipation she had been enduring for the entire meal. Quickly finishing her last few bites, Jen hurriedly wiped her mouth with a napkin and rushed out of the mess hall. She stopped at a mirror that was on the wall and did a quick spot check to make sure she was as presentable as possible.

On the observation deck, Cal stood at the large window exposed to the soft glow of outer space. The stars, asteroids, and local ships were all that were illuminating the hallway. Cal watched the activity taking place on some of the asteroids in the distance while he waited for the company of one Jen Wentz. It didn't take long for her to reach the top of the stairs, but she quietly tread the last few steps to see if she could enter the room undetected. She could only make it a few steps into the room before Cal reacted to her presence.

"Why so quiet?" he asked, still facing the window. Jen skipped forward and put her arms around Cal from behind. Giving him a huge squeeze, she had to respond to his question, "I forgot that you're a pilot for just a second there. I was hoping to sneak up on you just to see if it could be done." Cal sighed as he smiled, "Silly girl." He placed one of his hands on hers and rubbed it for a moment. Jen reacted by nestling the side of her face into his back.

Quickly changing her demeanor, Jen walked around to Cal's front and began to inspect him. Cal watched with a confused look. "What are you looking for?" Seeing nothing out of place, Jen sighed in relief. "Just making sure you haven't had anything done to you." Cal began to suspect that she knew about the hazing rituals taking place today. Jen continued, "I saw some really nasty pranks being played on the other new pilots. I had a suspicion that you might have been hit in some way already, but I see that that isn't the case. But then again, you did get hit when you first transferred onboard, didn't you?" The two slowly sat down on the bench in front of the window.

Cal was slightly embarrassed that she knew all about the bathroom prank. He's going to have to get used to having a semi-risque picture of himself floating around the ship... and the fleet, if someone were so inclined to be that mean-spirited. Jen smiled with a hint of mischief, "Yes, I saw the picture. I must say, though, 'nice boxers!' I've seen them somewhere before... oh yeah, on my floor." Cal didn't really like her bringing up their intimate moment together some weeks ago. Jen saw the look of consternation on his face and felt it would be best to not take that any farther at this moment. After all, she's just here to do a little scouting on him.

After a moment, Cal broke the uncomfortable silence. "Although I've been hazed already, I wouldn't be surprised if I got hit again. Ever since I joined Skull Squadron, it's felt like one person has been out to get me. Knowing her, she's probably planning something as we speak." Jen thought for a moment as to who Cal was talking about. She searched her mind for all of the possible females onboard who would have a strong connection to Cal. "Commander Klang?" she asked. Cal nodded.

"What's the deal with you two? I've heard some stories, but I had no idea you had an existing relationship before you came onboard. You never mentioned having met her when we were together the night before we left Aimo." Jen prodded. Cal laughed because he really didn't know how to put it without making Jen feel somewhat threatened about him having another female who is a significant part in his current day-to-day activities. He had suspected that Jen still held some desire to be with him again ever since he had lunch with her a few days ago.

"I guess you could say we're two rival pilots being forced to work with each other. Although, she is my commanding officer, it still doesn't stop us from butting heads sometimes. I sometimes enjoy the conflict, and I think she also does in a way. Don't quote me on that, though. She'll have my ass on a platter if she ever found out I said such an accusing thing to someone else about her," Cal said as he chuckled nervously. Jen was picking up on the hidden meanings behind what he said, but couldn't figure out how to ask him without blowing her cover.

"How does it feel to be flying again?" she asked. Cal couldn't wait to express how much he's been enjoying the past couple of weeks being back in the cockpit again. "Oh, it's the greatest feeling ever. To have the freedom to go wherever you want and not be bound to the ground... it's like defying the very laws of nature. You refuse to let gravity completely control where you go. To me, flying and fighting are the most trivial and liberating things in life. Once again, I get to do both things at the same time while serving on this ship."

Unable to relate, Jen tried to make herself into something that would appeal to Cal's interests. "Oh, I can imagine. Sometimes, I wish I was out there flying with you all." "Oh yeah? Why didn't you become a pilot?" Jen had to think for an answer. Cal's question exposed her last statement as an outright lie and she needed to do damage control. "I don't know. I just didn't know what I wanted to do when I went through the academy. I picked operations command because I want to become an officer some day. I guess... now that I think about it, I felt that commanding was more interesting to me than flying." Whew! Good recovery, Jen.

"Always do what makes you happy," Cal said. Jen smiled as she realized that Cal was going to play out her little ruse, as if he understood what it was she was trying to do. It's nice of him to not point out the glaring fact that she was stretching the truth to get some favor points. She snuggled up to him to show her appreciation for the harmless comment.

"Cal," she said, changing her tone into a serious one, "There's something I've been meaning to ask you since you came onboard." Jen had made her decision to jump at the opportunity to ask Cal about how he felt for her. "Did you ever think about the possibility that we'd be serving on the same ship ever since we left Aimo?" Cal's face had a bit of a shocked look to it. "Of course not. The odds were astronomical. I'm glad to be here now, though." Jen's face lit up as she hoped that he was talking about being on the same ship as her. Cal continued with his answer, "Serving in an elite squadron has always been one of my biggest aspirations since I joined the NUNS. Getting to fly with other pilots whose skills meet and/or exceed my own makes things _so_ much more interesting."

Jen's look of exuberance quickly drifted into disappointment. "Oh. Well, at least we get to see each other regularly now, right?" Cal thought about what Jen was beginning to hint at. "Well, of course. That's just the bonus of all this," he nervously replied. Jen knew he was really reaching for a way to make her feel better. She could tell he was doing his best to tell her what she wanted to hear, without giving her the wrong impression. Considering whether or not it was best to continue with this conversation, Jen took a deep breath and prodded on. This may be her best chance at getting what she wants.

"I know I told you that we have no ties together back on Aimo, but it doesn't mean that we can't establish something now," Jen said as she brushed up against Cal's shoulder. At this point, Cal could see exactly where she was going with this. His mind raced as he tried to think of how to get out of this without making any kind of hard commitments. Part of him was interested in Jen's proposal, but another part of him felt like he wouldn't have the time or the desire to pursue anything more than friendship. Now that he has his wings again, he's been reunited with his long-lost love of flying. The honeymoon phase was still well underway and it was going to be nearly impossible for him to discover what he wants to do with Jen while he's undeniably enamored with taking his bird out into combat.

"You're right about that, Jen," Cal said while he searched his mind for something else to say regarding the subject, "That was one memorable night we had together, though, wasn't it?" Cal hesitantly chuckled at his statement, but Jen took it as serious as she could. "Then you understand why I choose to return to you with these words," Jen said as she began to lean forward towards Cal's face. The moment of truth is nigh for Cal. Time seemed to crawl to a near-halt as he desperately searched for a way out of this predicament.

His prayers seemed to be answered immediately as he sensed something was about to go awry. Instead of meeting Jen's lips with his, he reeled away and stood up. Jen was shocked and surprised at his sudden reaction. "What's wrong? Did I say something you didn't like?" Cal didn't answer and instead stood clear of her, like he was waiting for something to happen.

Out of the shadowy areas of the halls, two people charged at Cal. One carried a small bucket, and the other carried a filled plastic sack. Awaiting his destiny, Cal remained motionless as Nene dumped the bucket over his head, completely dousing his uniform. Klan hopped up on the bench that Cal had been sitting on and opened the bag to release its contents onto him. Down feathers immediately adhered themselves onto Cal's head and uniform and started to float everywhere in the vicinity. To finish the process, Klan pulled out a specially-prepared hat and forcefully seated it on Cal's head.

As quickly as they came in, the two Zentraedi sisters left the room. Jen sat on the bench covering her mouth with her hands as she gasped in surprise at what had just happened. A smile began to creep onto her face as she finally realized why Cal reacted so violently to her aggressive advances. "You _knew_ they were coming, didn't you?" Cal laughed at the predicament. "Yup, I showed you that a pilot's senses are top notch. I just didn't want you to get any on yourself."

Jen blushed at the thoughtfulness that came from his abrupt reaction. "You wanted to save me from the attack, huh?" Feathers were still dancing around Cal as his every movement disturbed the deposits of down all over his body. He huffed a few times, trying to blow some of them away from his face. "A good pilot always sacrifices himself to save his teammates."

Cal pulled the hat off of his head and inspected it. It had been painted yellow and a handcrafted set of fluffy wings protruded from the sides. A reddish beak made from the brim of the hat and a second like-sized piece of sewed-on cloth was accompanied by a pair of googly eyes glued on the front. The back of the hat had two floppy brown pieces of cloth cut in the shape of chicken legs hanging down. Cal had to laugh at the amount of handiwork it took to make the hat. Someone really outdid themselves on this prank.

Jen was still at a loss of words as she tried to break the uncomfortableness of the situation. Cal took a deep breath, to help move the conversation forward. He turned to look at Jen with his answer, "What you did for me on Aimo deserves all of the thanks. Right now, I need to make sure I know what I want before I give you any definite answers. Give me some time to think things over and I'll let you know what I come up with. I'm sorry I've been ignoring you the last week, but as you can imagine, I've been quite busy." Jen didn't get the answer she wanted, but she was okay with a "maybe"... for now.

Cal accompanied his answer with a hug and a kiss on her cheek. He left a few feathers on her uniform as he stood back up from the hug he was giving her. "I have some stuff to take care of, so I will probably see you here and there for the rest of the day. Let's get together to eat soon, okay?" Jen nodded and wiped the emulsion of liquid and feathers that he left on the side of her head from the kiss. Cal casually strolled back out of the hallway onto his next item of business.

Refusing to let the recent turn of events mortify him, Cal decided to show up in the mess hall to see what kind of big deal he could make out of his hazing. The dull roar of conversation in the mess hall was interrupted by his entrance. "Hey! Look what happened to me!" Several of the newer pilots and crew were sitting at one of the larger group tables in the mess. Most of them applauded and cheered at Cal's entrance. Evidence of hazing instances were on some of those crew members. Cal sat down to visit for awhile, but he was looking for someone in particular. "Has anyone seen Ensign Garrett?" he asked. Most everyone shook their head in response. Cal stayed to chat for a little bit, but quickly got back up and left the room in search of his good buddy.

The return to her quarters was a little tougher than Jen expected. Cal's indecisiveness continued to dog her, even though she could somewhat understand the reasons he had for not showing any desire for commitment at this point. Unfortunately for her, her shift on the bridge was coming up soon. The pilots in the squadron may have the day off, but the command crew did not. There was one other person on her mind who might be able to help her see things a bit more clearly.

Cal burst into his quarters, hoping Will was still being too much of a wimp to show his face around the ship. Sure enough, he was reclined on his bunk while watching TV. Cal sat down in the chair facing the large viewscreen near the bathroom door. Will took a quick glance at him and turned back to the TV. It only took a split second for him to whip his head back around and look at the condition of Cal's uniform. The double-take was accompanied by a bit of laughter. "Yup," Cal simply said without turning his gaze from the TV "You still need to see what they did to our birds." Will jumped up from his bed in disbelief. "No! What happened?" "We got a slightly new paint job. Don't worry, I have a plan to get back at them for it."

Will flopped back down on his bed in relief. He had imagined something more horrible than the brief description Cal had given him. "C'mon to the hangar, I'll show you," Cal said as he got up from the chair. Will hopped down and followed Cal to the door. "Aren't you going to change?" Will asked. Cal just smirked and opened the door to exit the room.

Accusing stares from random crew members stuck to Cal, much like the down feathers did to his uniform. Cal first wanted to show Will the collage of pictures that was multiplying exponentially on the squadron message board in the hangar. Upon reaching it, they marveled at the careful planning it took to execute such a well-coordinated massive strike on the new pilots in the squadron. Even Will had been candidly photographed wearing only a washcloth as he ran down the halls near the quarters. However, one picture caught their eyes. It was the all-familiar picture of Cal in his boxers cleaning the toilet... only it had been altered to show him wearing a maid's uniform, still bending over the toilet with brush in hand. A crude caricature of Klan's head was drawn in the corner, gesturing her approval of the activities taking place in the photograph.

"I gotta admit, that girl has this shit down to a science," Cal said. Will nodded in agreement while Cal continued, "We know what we're up against. I think it's time to plan out a counterattack." Will followed Cal to their VFs so he could see what kind of "damage" had been done to his bird. He found it just about as funny as Cal did. The two huddled close together to talk about how they were going to return the favors.

After about an hour on her shift, Jen completed the first set of her station's responsibilities. Taking advantage of a break in the aerospace traffic patterns, she turned to Bobby for a small bit of advice. Like a child waiting for candy to dispense from the machine, Jen wanted a little piece of sugary delight. "Bobby, have you ever fallen in love with a pilot?" The subject of her question was glaringly obvious to Bobby and the rest of the bridge crew, who could overhear her speaking.

"What did he say?" Bobby asked. Jen turned back to her station and looked upwards out the front of the bridge into space. "He wouldn't say yes or no. He seemed 'distracted'." Bobby nodded his head as if he already understood the situation. "He's a pilot." Jen stared at Bobby, hoping he'd elaborate. Bobby continued after a few moments, "Pilots are much different than most other people you meet. They love the sky and space. They're probably the hardest individuals to get to enter into any kind of commitment. They fly because they can't stand _not_ to fly... it's as if they are always in a state of constant readiness... the readiness to hop onto a plane to fly away to wherever their heart desires." Monica, Lam, and Mena all nodded in agreement in the background.

Jen began to understand what it is that ties pilots to their work. "I guess that's what Minmei understood when she wrote and performed 'Watashi No Kare Wa' (My Boyfriend is a Pilot)." Bobby laughed at the reference to such an old classic song. "Perhaps... All I can say is that you just sit back and enjoy the time he spends on the ground. Restraining him from his desires to hop up and fly off somewhere will only cause him to push you farther away from himself." Jen nodded and thanked Bobby for his bite-sized advice, just the way she had wanted it to be.

Unfortunately for her, he was right. She wanted something more of a commitment from Cal and his words only served to dash her desires. She could do one of three things. The first was the most common mistake women make when they see a man they want: Try to change who he is to fit the mold of their ideal man. The second was to take Bobby's advice and learn to savor Cal's company for the times that he's not thinking about flying. The third was to outright just forget about being with Cal and return her focus on her career and maybe someone else who _isn't_ a pilot. Life's full of important choices...

A couple of hours had passed since Cal sent a private message to all of the new pilots. He sat with Will in the mess hall, awaiting the arrival of the people he invited. He was still wearing the same uniform, which had gotten rigid and crusty from the glue that was mixed in with water to use as an adhesive. Not to mention, he was still shedding feathers wherever he went. Several maintenance crew members had already expressed their disgust with his dirtying of their floors. The hat still remained firmly planted on his head. It was as if he wanted to show off that he had been pranked, as opposed to the way his squadron mates chose to hide it.

Said squadron mates finally arrived to the clandestine meeting being held in the corner of the mess. Cal began the meeting and got right to the point. "Okay, I'm sure you guys are a little miffed about getting hazed, right?" The pilots at the table agreed wholeheartedly. "Well, I have a plan to get back at those guys, but it could lead to further punishment. If you ask me, what I have planned will be worth pretty much any retaliation they can throw our way. If any of you don't want to deal with it, then leave now." One of the pilots spoke up, "They'll punish us all anyways, no matter who decides to not participate." Everyone at the table agreed.

Cal rethought his statement for a moment. "Then does anyone have any reservations about doing this with me?" Nobody spoke up as most of the pilots looked at each other for a cue to sit this one out. "Nobody? Okay, good... then here's how it's gonna go. I have, on these sheets of paper, the plan. Each of you will have a different job and we expect it to be done without being detected." Cal started to hand out the sheets of paper to each pilot. Everyone looked at their jobs and seemed to be pleased at the proposed results. "Any questions?"

The group of pilots quickly dispersed so they wouldn't raise suspicion of the allegedly targeted pilots, in case they happened to come into the mess and see what was going on. Cal left with them to head to his quarters and work out some more details of his plan. Sure enough, as he was walking out of the mess, Ozma and Alto bumped into him on their way in.

Seeing the condition of Cal's uniform, Ozma was a bit annoyed. "So, _that's_ why I keep finding feathers all over the ship. Goddammit, Wagner, go change your uniform. Klan told me she and Nene got you a few hours ago. Why the hell would you still be wearing all that shit on you?" Cal shrugged, "I thought it was funny to show it off. I'll make her eat her words some day." "Just get your ass out of that uniform. I'm tired of feathers getting all over the place." "Yes, Sir." Cal quickly left Ozma's presence to get moving on his agenda.

The rest of the afternoon was spent making arrangements for the surgical strikes that were to take place overnight. After visiting with a couple of the new cooks in the galley, Cal met Will in the hangar to make some alterations to the new paint jobs that Klan and Nene had given their birds. The rest of the new pilots completed preparations to execute their plan. Dinner in the mess hall was a bit peculiar to the veteran pilots. The new pilots seemed to have a much bigger sense of unity with each other; sitting together and enjoying their meals as a group. The veteran pilots didn't suspect a thing, though. In their minds, the hazing rituals has helped to pull their pilots together as a team. Little did they know how right and wrong they were at the same time.

Needless to say, that night saw very few of the new pilots getting to sleep at reasonable times. Something was happening on that ship that only some were privy to. Cal and Will got into their quarters very late. Both of them breathed a heavy sigh, as they had completed their work. Cal's PDA began to chime as each pilot reported in with their success. The few hours they had left to sleep were going to be full of anticipation. The roommates went to sleep chuckling at each other; proud of what they had accomplished during the course of the night. They, and all of the other pilots didn't care about any kind of retaliation they were going to get as a result.


	16. What Goes Around

Waking up in the earliest hours of the morning, the pilots of Skull Squadron were getting ready to return to active patrol and escort, following their day off. With the exception of the newest pilots, who had stayed up late, the rest of the squadron felt completely rested. The veteran pilots eagerly entered their usual morning activities before taking part in their assigned schedules. Unfortunately, several unexpected surprises lie in wait for most of them.

Having her own private bathroom was one of the many perks that Klan enjoyed as the squadron's XO. To not have to fight over shower stalls and to be able to use your own hygiene care items comes with it's advantages... and also has a certain disadvantage. That disadvantage was capitalized upon overnight.

Fresh out of the shower, Klan removed the towel from on top of her head to use the hair dryer. To her surprise, the side of her head is met not only with a gust of air, but a hefty helping of talcum powder. The room is instantly saturated with a haze of powder as she turns the dryer off and looks at it as if something malfunctioned with it. Realizing her face and hair is now covered in white, she turned on the faucet to wash it off.

The top of the sink was carefully shrink-wrapped with plastic, causing the water to run off all over the counter and onto Klan's frontside. Also, the screw on the handle was removed, and Klan inadvertently pulled it off the valve after having turned it halfway open. "What the--??" Already annoyed by the talcum powder inside her hair dryer, Klan angrily placed the handle back on the valve, turned off the water, and stomped to the door of the bathroom to grab an extra towel that was hanging on the hook. Turning before she pulled it off the hook, Klan was yanked back by the towel. Somehow, it was fastened to the door and wouldn't let go.

"Oh, _come on_!" Klan struggled with the towel for a few seconds, giving it a few good tugs before giving up. Now enraged by this turn of events, she rushed into her quarters to raid the linen pantry for a fresh towel. Upon opening the cabinet, she discovered it to be completely empty. At this point, Klan had to stop and take a deep breath or she was going to burst a few blood vessels in her head. She'd been pranked good and now the question was about who was to blame for it. She already had a good idea before she went back into the bathroom and noticed the faint outline of a poorly-drawn chickling traced out on the foggy mirror. It was the calling card of Cal.

The mess hall was relatively quiet. It was still early in the morning and most of the crew assigned to the coming shifts were just now waking up. A few crew members who were winding down from their shifts were filling into the mess hall to grab a bite to eat to start their off-duty status. Only a couple of the new pilots patiently sat in the mess, watching TV while eating a few munchies. Cal was among them; coffee in hand.

A few minutes passed before a couple of the individuals they were waiting on entered the mess line for their food. The new pilots could slightly overhear the conversation going on between Ozma and Alto. "My mouth feels very numb, all of a sudden," Alto casually remarks to Ozma. The words strike Ozma in the head like a soccer ball. "You too??" he asks. Upon discovering their common symptoms, the two veterans began to realize that there was foul play afoot. They both whipped around to see the new pilots behind them enjoying their breakfasts and wearing smarmy grins.

Ozma grabbed his food and sat down so he could be facing his chicklings and stare them down. Alto took a seat right next to him. The new pilots were doing their best to focus their attention on the television, but knew that they were being watched. As each moment passed, it became harder and harder for the new pilots to contain their reactions. The piercing gazes of Ozma and Alto served to tickle their skin, rather than burn it.

Seeing their team leaders begin to eat their food, Cal inconspicuously nodded to one of the pilots sitting next to him. The pilot got up from his chair, casually pushed it back under the table, and left the mess. As he left the room, he passed by a very upset individual on their way in to find someone. Seeing their target, the tense silence was torn asunder by their voice.

"Wagner!" Klan yelled. Cal got up from his chair and stood at attention. Curling her index finger towards her like a cold witch beckoning the object of her gaze to come nearer, she ordered him to follow her out of the mess. Cal turned to look at his fellow pilots with a very mischievous grin, holding in his laughter. The other pilots responded with apprehensive smiles, as if it was going to be the last time they saw Cal while he was still breathing. Cal gave a sneaky thumbs-up to the cook who was standing behind the counter.

Suddenly, Cal's conscience began to heed him warning of the folly of his most recent activities. It seemed like maybe this was a bad idea, after all. Cal continued behind Klan as he shook his head to rattle the negative thoughts out of his head. She led him to the maintenance closet, opened the door, and grabbed random cleaning supplies. "You're going to start by cleaning up the mess you made in my bathroom," she said as she shoved the supplies into Cal's arms and pushed him forward towards her quarters. Cal's face began to beam from the way she was reacting to his little "stimulus".

Klan had not noticed yet another "gift" that Cal had left for her on the outside of the door to her quarters. A couple of pieces of paper were neatly taped against the door to keep them from getting scrubbed off when it opens. Written in large letters with poor penmanship, one paper read "Warning: The Nephilim lives here!" Below that paper was another paper with another crude drawing on it. It featured a poorly-drawn face of Klan with sharp, pointy teeth that seemed to be eating a small stick figure of a person. Other stick figures were running away to save themselves, probably from being eaten. Klan saw the drawings and shoved Cal inside her quarters before she removed them from the door.

The silence returned to the mess hall after Klan and Cal left. Ozma and Alto continued to eat while staring down their chicklings. They seemed to struggle to chew their food and keep it in their mouths, due to the adverse effects of the numbness they were getting all over their faces. Ozma was debating within himself on what should be done about the brazen behavior of his pilots. Alto's thoughts were not far from that, either.

After having finished their food, the two veterans were about to come to a decision on what to do about their chicklings' insolent, but gutsy behavior. Before they could get up to say something, they began to feel like their intestinal tract was about to completely dissolve from the inside. Both pilots got up and rushed out of the mess hall; walking with a noticeable uprightness, as if they were doing their best to hold something in.

After Alto's and Ozma's exits, each new pilot, who had been doing their best to hold in their laughter, completely lost control and fell about the table with a guffaw. The pilot, who had left earlier upon Cal's gesture, returned to the mess with a hand-truck full of boxes. They all got up and began to unpack the contents of the boxes for Ozma and Alto's return. Once they were done, each pilot left the mess hall to get ready for their shift assignments.

It took what felt like forever to get to the restrooms. To Ozma's and Alto's dismay, they found each toilet to be missing the seats. All that was left of them was the bowl, which is probably as difficult to sit on as it looks. They really had no choice to go to their own quarters to do their business, seeing as how time was not being very friendly... nor was the extent of their bowel control. Forced to use the less-than-standard commodes, relief came quickly. A reach into the toilet paper dispenser brought a feeling of horror to Ozma and Alto. The dispensers were cleaned out of their contents.

Yelling and cursing could be heard in the mess hall not too far away. Several crew members, who had just arrived to eat, sat and stared at the table where Ozma and Alto were sitting. A pair of toilet seats and rolls of toilet paper sat on the table next to the food they left behind. They had to assume that the odd placement of such items had something to do with the cursing coming from down the hall outside of the mess.

Cal happily cleaned up the mess he had caused in Klan's bathroom. An almost-sick sense of satisfaction coursed through his body as he served out his punishment. "It was totally worth it," he muttered to himself. He didn't want to be too loud, lest Klan hear him and find something else to punish him with. Something within him told him to make sure he didn't do a half-assed job of cleaning, though. He was probably already in some trouble with her and he wanted to make sure he at least made some of it up. She still hadn't seen the alterations he made to the new paint job she put on his bird the day before.

After some time, Cal emerged from the bathroom to let Klan know he was finished. "Alright, I'm all done in there. You want to inspect it?" Klan had been sitting in a chair looking over Cal's drawing and thinking to herself about the recent series of events. "I just have one question. Is _this_ how you see me? As some kind of dangerous creature?" she said as she waved the drawings in her hand. Cal began to feel like he had inadvertently offended Klan again. "Aw, no. I was just kidding when I drew that. I didn't mean anything negative by it."

Cal put down the cleaning supplies and shifted into the chair across from Klan. "I'll admit it. I appreciate that you're tough on me. It pushes me to improve myself and it keeps me from overstepping my bounds. If I go too far, I know you'll be there to bonk me on the head." Klan put her tough demeanor back on. "I don't need your words of encouragement. I am who I am and it shouldn't matter whether or not you appreciate that or not." Despite her tough facade, Cal knew why she puts on such an act. He noticed the brief vulnerability she exhibited when she asked him about the source of inspiration for the pictures he had drawn. She seems to be self-conscious about her presentation around him. To his knowledge, she doesn't behave the same way when she's around others.

Klan got up from her chair and led Cal out of her quarters. "Now, comes the question of punitive action over this set of incidents." Cal realized that cleaning her bathroom may not be the end of the retaliation. "Punishment for what?" he asked. "Don't play dumb, Wagner. Where should I start? How about misappropriation of medical supplies?" Cal raised his eyebrow as if he had no idea what she was talking about. "I spoke with Commander Lee while you were in there cleaning and he told me about the local anesthetics you and your cronies injected into their toothpaste. He also mentioned to me that you guys put super laxatives in their food." Cal dipped his head in guilt.

Continuing with her list, Klan moved forward with the conversation, "Let's see... theft of NUNS property. Let's not forget about breaking and entering into an officer's quarters. You've got yourself a nice rap sheet going here. Shall I continue?" Cal knew that she was talking about removing the toilet seats and toilet paper from the restrooms near the mess and the towels from Klan's room. There was also the other pilots who broke into Alto's, Ozma's, and Nene's quarters to inject the anesthetic into their toothpaste and Cal's intrusion into Klan's bathroom for the huge setup. Klan waited for Cal to put away the cleaning supplies. "Okay, the squadron is meeting in the hangar to discuss punishment right now. Move it!"

Skull Squadron met in the hangar, split up into two groups. The veteran pilots stood at one side, with Ozma front and center. The remaining pilots in the squadron stood at attention while in formation. Ozma wasn't terribly happy about the pranking that he and his pilots had just received a short while ago. Fortunately, the anesthetics had worn off, so his speech was no longer being impaired by the numbness. "I want to know whose bright idea this was. Whichever one of you it was, I want you to step forward."

Klan glared intently at Cal because she suspected he was the ringleader. However, it was not just Cal who stepped forward. All of the pilots simultaneously took one step in Ozma's direction. Ozma had to maintain his angry facade, but deep inside, he was a little proud that his new pilots are working together as a team and will take their punishment as a team as well. "Very well, then... You will all hop into your EX-gears. It's time to do some laps. Kanaria, make sure they learn their lesson well." Ozma turned around towards his office and gestured for Klan to follow him.

Kanaria took over the administration of punishment. "Alright, maggots! You heard the man. Everyone get your asses into your EX-gears and get back into formation. Move it!" All of the pilots scattered to get their EX-gears and carried with them a sense of pride and belonging, knowing that they all had each others' backs. They were doing laps in no time, with Kanaria watching over them closely. Alto, Luca, and Nene seemed like innocent bystanders as they patiently watched.

Ozma sat down behind his desk to briefly talk with Klan before sending her out on her escort shift. "So, who do you think it was?" "Wagner." Ozma nodded in agreement. "He seems to have gained the respect of the other new pilots quickly. He certainly demonstrated his ability to form a good plan ahead of time. I have to admit that this whole debacle really caught me off-guard." Klan looked at Ozma with confusion on her face. "You think that it was okay for them to do that to us?"

Ozma laughed in response to Klan's question. "No, it's not that. Despite the negative result, you have to recognize his ability to rally people to his cause... then to calmly assign jobs to those people and have them carry out their orders successfully to accomplish the overall goal. You should know how important that is in a soldier who has the potential to have his own squad someday." "You're not thinking of doing what I think you are, are you?!" Klan sternly asked. Ozma shook his head. "No... no, not yet, anyway. I just wanted to point out that there is some good that came out of this. Even though we're punishing them for their insolence, we saw how they have all become more of a team. This little 'exercise' has done well to bring the squadron closer together."

Klan hesitantly nodded in agreement. Deep down inside, she wishes she had Ozma's panache. If she's going to get her own squadron someday, she'll need to be able to lead charismatically like he does. His ability to see the good from bad is something that she wants to be able to do some time. She was lucky to be able to draw from the qualities of Humans to compliment her natural ferocity as a pilot and warrior. This is something that she wouldn't be able to do if she had chosen to join an all-Zentraedi unit.

Recognizing an opportunity to learn how to draw out the leader in someone, Klan volunteered herself for a little project. "Ozma, I'd like to request that you leave his further development with me. I'll make sure to round off those rough edges so he'll be better prepared for his eventual promotion... whenever that happens." "Why do you want to do it?" "He's my chickling, Sir. I should be the one responsible for the outcome of his career while he serves under me. I think I'm beginning to see in him what you have been trying to show me all along."

A big smile crept across Ozma's face as he processed what Klan was trying to tell him. "You sure you don't have a thing for him?" Klan reeled back in disgust. "Oh **God**, no." Ozma continued to smile... his instinct wasn't quite satisfied with her answer and reaction. "Okay, I just had to ask. Have at him, then. Just make sure you keep him in one piece." A satisfied and mischievous grin worked its way onto Klan's face as she left the room to hop into the tank to macronize herself.

After several minutes, Klan and Nene entered the hangar to get into their Queadluuns. "Pixie Team, let's go!" Klan barked towards Will and Cal. The momma bird had called out to her chicklings. They were still doing laps in their EX-gears, but received the nod to leave from Kanaria. They quickly got to their VFs and fired them up to taxi to the deck elevators.

As the birds maneuvered around the hangar and onto the elevators, Nene noticed the alterations that Cal and Will had made to their new paint jobs. "Klan, look..." she said, pointing to the VFs. The chicklings that were painted on the fuselages were each laying an egg. The egg on Will's bird resembled Nene's face with a cheery disposition. The egg on Cal's bird was painted to resemble Klan with an angry look on her face. Remembering Cal's answer to her question earlier about how he sees her, Klan understood how he appreciates her overbearing style. The two sisters snickered with each other on how crudely-drawn the caricatures were, but most importantly, that they were the ones on the minds of their two chicklings.

The fleet was going to be on the move again, since the prospecting teams had finished their work in the currently-occupied space. That means that it's time to clear out or tag more Vajra nests, depending on their disposition. Several losses have been suffered by the fleet during the last couple of days of operations. The density of Vajra nests seems to have increased slightly; raising the chances of finding hostile nests in the next designated occupation sphere.

Team Pixie was joined by a few other teams of VFs while they moved towards their assigned coordinates. Cal recognized the IFFs of some of the fighters nearby. "Commander, would you excuse me for just a sec? I see someone I'd like to say 'hello' to." "Whatever. Don't get lost." He broke formation and headed over to buzz Team Pyrios. Performing a spiraled barrel roll around their formation, he opened the comm lines to his former wingmates. "Look who's coming to the party!" Cal said. "Is that you, Wagner?" Lieutenant Prince crackled over the line. Ensigns Bae and Carter each said their "hello"s after Prince's initial response.

"How're things going in Skull Squadron?" Ensign Bae asked. "Oh, going just great! You guys should try these VF-25s. They're amazing machines." A bit of jealousy floated over them before they answered. "Don't be greedy, Wagner. You guys need to hurry up and finish testing those beautiful babies so we can get our own soon," Prince replied. "I hope you're staying out of trouble," Ensign Carter chimed in. Cal took a moment to answer, trying to hold back the embarrassed laughter. "Oh, you know me. I've been stirring things up a bit and getting myself into some hot water. They've got some damn good pilots and it's tough to earn respect from them. I'll win them over some day, I'm sure."

Cal could see Team Pixie beginning to pull away from the rest of the fighters in the formation. "Okay, I gotta get back to my team. It's good to see you guys again. Stay frosty out there!" Cal said. Team Pyrios all said their "goodbye"s in unison. Cal took a moment to admire the transition he took moving from Helios Squadron to Skull Squadron many days ago. His increasing distance from them at that very moment was analogous of the separation he's had to make from the people with whom he previously flew alongside. The good thing about that was that they'd always be within reach somehow, whether by physical interaction or some sort of digital communication.

Cal rejoined his spot in Team Pixie's formation. "I hope you played nice with them," Klan remarked over the radio, "Just remember that you belong to Team Pixie now. The responsibility of your career and development belongs to me." "Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Commander? Afraid I'll go running off to someone else's squadron?" Cal said. Klan didn't answer. "Don't worry, I wouldn't miss this for the world," Cal continued. "That's good to hear, Lieutenant."

The sensor readouts in Cal's bird began to alert him of incoming hostiles. "We got company, 11 o'clock low." "I see 'em. Let's try to get around them to find the nest," Klan ordered as she blasted ahead of her team, expecting them to follow closely behind. The rest of the pilots matched speed and followed her path. Cal continued to patch his sensor data into Klan's Queadluun so she could make the best decisions on what route to take. Avoiding contact with the Vajra was priority number one, but they were ready to use deadly force if they were required to defend themselves.

Cal was unable to triangulate the position of the nest using the Vajra's incoming trajectories. "Wagner, I need the position on that nest several seconds ago," Klan barked. "I'm trying, Commander. I don't have enough information to make the predictions. We may need to find a second group to get a more localized position." "Tch..." Klan clicked her tongue at this development, "We have no choice but to determine how far these guys will follow us. At least that way, we can determine if there's a hostile nest nearby, or if it's just a docile one."

The team turned back to the direction from which they came. The Vajra moved in even closer, looking to destroy the intruders who have come into their territory. Cal considered using his fold-magnetic chaff to blind the bugs, but part of the point of escaping was to see how aggressive they were. They were just going to have to evade the incoming fire the old-fashioned way.

After being chased for some 300 kilometers, Klan made the decision to eradicate the pursuing Vajra, or risk having someone get shot down. "Alright, it's been far enough. Take 'em." Team Pixie reacted to their orders and broke up into two groups of two fighters. Will and Nene teamed up to peel away some of the Vajra in the group. Two bugs followed them in one direction, while three followed Klan and Cal.

Nene's Queadluun became locked up in a physical struggle with a mecha-drone while Will drew the fire of the other Vajra to cover her. The fight wasn't terribly hard for her since she could hold the drone in place with her arms while she fired upon it with the chest-mounted cannons on the power armor. Sensing this was a bad position, the drone attempted to disengage and chase Will. Nene tried to hold on, but it was strong enough to break the Queadluun's grip and charge off.

Will was having a bit of difficulty in wiping out his target. It seemed to dodge everything he threw at it. The mecha-drone that Nene was fighting entered in on Will's six and opened fire. "Rora, where are you? I'm in deep shit," Will announced. Nene was not far behind the drone, though. "Don't worry, Garrett, I've got you covered. You should be more trusting of me," she said as she intercepted the drone. She planted her beam cannon's muzzle right onto the husk of the drone and fired. The shot penetrated all the way through the tough armor of the drone and finished it off. "There you go. That one's all yours," Nene said as she watched him move in for the shot. Will scored a gun kill on his target mere seconds later.

Klan and Cal were not having any problems dealing with their set of drones. Cal sat back and let Klan do most of the work while he continued to monitor his sensors for any additional groups of Vajra. He'd need one more incoming trajectory to give an accurate prediction of the nest's location. It only took a few seconds for his prayers to be answered. Another group of 3 Vajra began to enter his sensor range. "Commander, there's another 3 coming in. I can now give you a good idea of where that nest is." Klan gave her order as she finished off the last Vajra from the first group. "Nene, Garrett, you take the 3 incomings. We'll go find that nest. Come see us as soon as you are done with them." They acknowledged and moved in to intercept.

Cal and Klan took off towards his prediction zone, hoping to find the nest so they could eradicate it. However, Klan had an ulterior motive to finding a hostile nest. "Wagner, try to hide our EM and fold signatures. I want to get as close to that nest as we can before being detected." Cal moved in as close as he could to Klan's Queadluun to increase his radome's effectiveness. It was very difficult for him to stay right on her, because she was moving so fast and his RVF was having trouble keeping up with the movements. "C'mon, Wagner. Stay with me, here." "I'm trying my best, Commander. I don't know if anyone's told you this, but you move really fast," Cal said with a little bit of laughter. Klan smiled at the back-handed compliment.

It didn't take long for Klan's sharp eyes to visually identify the nest. "There it is, straight in front of us." Cal checked his calculations on the distance the drones had traveled in pursuit of his team earlier. At over 650 kilometers, this was definitely an agitated nest. Fortunately for them, they had evaded detection, thanks to the radome enhancements Cal was using. Flying around to the backside of the planetoid with the nest in it, Cal began to wonder why Klan had not yet ordered him to fire his incendiaries inside.

"What are we doing?" Klan didn't answer at first. She seemed to want to get a look inside of the cavern before setting it ablaze. "Just a bit of a hunch," she finally replied. Cal was still confused, but chose to just wait for his orders. Cutting her engines to reduce the chances of being seen, Klan grappled her way across the surface of the asteroid. Her gambit seemed to pay off, as the drones guarding the entrance were looking outward from their positions just in front of the cavern's opening.

Gaining a good vantage point inside, Klan patched her visuals in to Cal's monitors. "Look at this. One of our friends from Galaxy is here." The picture showed a VF-27 engaged in some sort of implantation procedure with a newly-hatched larvae. The details of the work being done were tough to make out, due to the low visibility inside. Switching to infrared would only serve to reduce the detail of the picture. Klan remained undetected for several moments while she witnessed this bizarre behavior.

Cal suddenly broke the silence, "Watch out!" One of the fighter-drones had seen Klan's Queadluun and lunged at her to pierce the power armor with its flagella. Cal reacted by drawing his Ka-bar and severing the tail before it reached its target. He grabbed the thicker end of the tail above the cut and held the drone in place while Klan flipped around and perforated it with her guns.

By now, the nest had been alerted to their presence and flurried all around to defend their home. Klan blasted away to draw the majority of the drones away from Cal so he could do his job. "Nene! Garrett! We need you here **now**!" "We're almost there," Nene responded. Most of the swarm left to pursue Klan, leaving a few for Cal to deal with. For now, the VF-27 inside continued his work, probably hoping that he remained unseen to the Frontier forces now assaulting the nest he was in.

Nene and Will arrived to help peel some Vajra off of Klan so she could go back into her offensive mode to reduce their numbers. The drones that remained to fend off Cal from the opening had chased him away from his objective. It looks like he's going to have to go through them to complete his job. Three Vajra drones moved in behind Cal so they could begin to open fire. Since he was in a hurry, he had no time to waste destroying these bugs. A quickly-released salvo of fold-magnetic chaff dispersed in a cloud behind him. Once again, the drones became confused at the additional fold signals they were seeing and lost track of Cal. He fired several missiles and opened fire with his gunpod, saturating the area with munitions. The three drones became engulfed in the explosions, assuring their destruction.

Klan had to free herself from her pursuers in order to whet her curiosity about the VF-27 still inside of the nest. "Garrett! Nene! Focus your attention on the drones on me. I need you to peel them off so I can get to that nest." Will and Nene shrugged at the strangeness of the orders, but complied. Allowing their targets to get away, they worked well together to eliminate the few drones that were following Klan. Seeing that she was free to move away, she vectored her thrust to burst back towards the nest.

Cal was just getting into firing position as Klan met him outside of the nest. The incendiaries detached from under his wings and cleared the cavern entrance. He pulled into a climb to avoid any splash damage, but Klan stopped several hundred meters in front of the cavern to wait. After a few moments, the 27 zoomed out of the cavern to run on home, but Klan had a reason she was waiting. She cut off its escape route in order to challenge it to a fight. She hoped to finally best the elusive 27.

Her past experiences in combat against Brera Sterne in his VF-27 ended up in her getting shot down. She was prepared to do what it takes to get that monkey off of her back, so she could finally say that she's shot down one of every kind of fighter available. This is the kind of pride and excessive zeal that gets her into trouble, though.

In the background of a flaming inferno burning all around, Klan hoped her fighting ferocity would match the intensity of the maelstrom of fire raging inside of the cavern. The 27 didn't really seem to be interested in taking part in this little duel of hers, as its movements only served to irritate Klan even more. She was able to keep the fighter from exiting the area, but didn't have a lot of time to take shots at it. She would provoke it with every opportunity she had. The only return fire she got was directed towards scaring her off the pursuit and nothing more.

Cal began to open fire on the 27, but was met with a hostile demand. "Don't try to help, Wagner. You'll only get in the way! Just stay back and make sure no more drones attack me." Hesitant to obey, Cal staggered his RVF away from the area of conflict and kept an eye out for any incoming drones that might still be hiding amongst the asteroids.

While Will and Nene finished off the last of their attackers, Klan continued to struggle with the 27. Her every shot dodged, her every missile shot down, her every attempt to corner it failed. It wasn't too long before the 27 found an opening in her blockade attempt and escaped the area. Cal tried to follow, but was cut off by Klan in her angered pursuit. "Why won't you fight me?! Come back here and show me what you can do!" she yelled over the open comm lines. She hoped that her demands would be heard and provoke the 27 to turn around and re-engage, but her words did not sway the pilot.

Klan continued to pursue the 27 far out of the range of their patrol area. The comm lines opened up to warn them that they were exceeding their mission parameters. "Skull-5, this is Quarter Tower. You are well beyond your specified mission boundaries. Return to your designated coordinates," Jen Wentz's voice crackled. Knowing that she was not going to succeed in either catching the 27 or coercing it to re-engage, Klan stopped her Queadluun dead in space. Cal stopped his RVF next to Klan and watched as the 27 sped off into the murky black of space.

"Don't worry, Commander, we'll run into more of them down the road," Cal said, trying to comfort her frustration. "Quiet, you. I don't need you to help me feel better. I _will_ shoot one of those damn 27s down if it takes the rest of my life," Klan snapped back. Cal tried not to take her hostility personally. He knew that she just gets that way when she's in the frenzy of the fight. He would have liked to get that kill too, but nowhere near with the intensity and zeal that Klan has for it. It seems that she has a personal vendetta against those fighters. Klan turned her Queadluun around with a scoff and blasted back towards their operational space with Cal closely behind.

Pixie Team secured their area and spent the rest of their shift keeping the peace. Klan was generally quiet for the remainder of their time out there, but that didn't stop Will and Nene from chattering away with each other. Cal tried to join in some of the time, but he thought it might be a good idea to let the two of them get to know each other better. There seems to be a bit of attraction going on between them. Only time will tell where they'll go with it. Cal tells himself that he will probably ask Will about it at some point to see what he says.

Upon his return to the Quarter, Cal stopped into Ozma's office at his request. Ozma was in his flightsuit, about to join his team on their escort shift. "I'll make this quick. We got an answer from Bell-Casse while you were out there just now. They OK'ed the proliferation of your system enhancements to Luca." Cal smiled in response to the good news while Ozma continued. "Remember, it's still classified, so the only people who you can talk to about it are Captain Wilder, me, Klan, and Luca. I want you to get with Luca after we get back from our shift and set up the earliest, most convenient time to roll out the systems to him." "Yes, sir!" Cal responded, as Ozma left the office to hop into his VF.

Cal suddenly realized that Ozma had referred to the other squadron pilots by their first names to him. Just like Luca told him before, everyone refers to each other by first name when they've been "accepted". Although Ozma did not refer to Cal by his first name, it was a start. Maybe this whole pranking issue is going to blow over from now on and things will move to a more personal basis with the other squadron pilots.

Klan approached Cal from behind while in her macronized form as he watched Ozma taxi his VF onto the deck elevator. "Just in case you were thinking that you were off the hook by now, I wanted to go ahead and tell you otherwise. I need you to report to my quarters in 30 minutes. Oh, and wear grubbies because you're probably gonna get dirty," she said as she started to make her way to the micloning tanks. "Yes'm," Cal said with a heavy sigh.

Will approached him after Klan left. "Hey, I was going to get something to eat with Lieutenant Rora. Do you want to come?" Cal laughed at the huge disparity between the relationship that Will and Nene were forming and the one that he and Klan were forming. "Sorry, dude. Looks like I will continue to serve out my punishment for the next few hours. It looks like Commander Klang has something horrible cooked up for me to do for her." "Oh... well, good luck with that, then!" Will said as he left to change out of his flightsuit.

At that point, it was obvious to Cal that Klan was still lashing out at him some. She still remained somewhat of an enigma to him. Some days, she was as amicable as one would hope she could be. Other days, she was extremely overbearing and intolerable of Cal's personality quirks. Will and Nene have started to show attachment to each other. Whether they were getting along as good friends or something more, it would only be revealed with time.

On one side of Cal, he had a woman who was obviously interested in being something more than just a friend to him. She was honest and open with him, but she was a little pushy. That pushiness irked Cal a little bit, but it's definitely not something he should be critical of her for. On the other side, he had a woman who he thought was his friend and rival, but she seems to want to crush his spirit and change him into something that he's not quite comfortable with. Each dilemma had completely different solutions to deal with them. Perhaps the next couple of hours would be an opportunity to take care of one set of his problems, at least.


	17. The Aftershock

A/N: Just a quick note: I started adding ellipses (...) to separate drastic scene changes. I thought it would help the reader a bit more to identify a scene shift. I try hard to segue into the next scene, but I can't do it all of the time. I apologize to those of you who had to go back and re-read a couple of paragraphs because there was no indication that the scene was in a different place as you pass from one paragraph to the other. Enjoy!

* * *

After arriving at Klan's quarters, Cal took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A few moments passed before the door opened, revealing Klan standing at the door with her arms crossed. "Alright, let's get started," she said, turning around and leading the way. Her room looked like it had been hit by a tidy burglar. There were several piles of clothes and linens in various places in the room. The bed had been stripped of its sheets and blankets. The drawers to the nightstands and dressers had been opened and partially unloaded.

At this point, Cal was fearing the worst. From the looks of it, he was going to be some sort of housekeeper for the next few hours. Klan began to explain to him what was going on, "Now that you've spoiled the sanctity of my quarters from your little intrusion last night, you're going to help me remove the layer of grime your presence left all over everything in here." Cal began to wonder if she was being somewhat literal about this, or if she was just taking a cheapshot at him as a way to lash out in retaliation.

"You can start by doing my laundry," she said while she pointed at the piles of linen and uniforms around the room, "Just in case you were thinking of doing anything indecent, I removed the unmentionables already. That way, you won't get any ideas." Already, Klan's offhand comments were starting to get under Cal's skin. She's treating him like he's some kind of disgusting lecher. "Once you've gotten that started, come back in here and get started on the floors. I need everything moved and cleaned underneath, so you'll be moving some furniture around too."

Cal couldn't believe he was being turned into Klan's personal housekeeper over all of this. "Isn't this some sort of abuse of power?" he asked. She casually walked past him to grab a book off of one of the shelves. "Probably," she shrugged, "I wouldn't complain about it, if I were you, though. I thought about having you wash my flightsuits, but then I realized that's it's pretty much impossible for you to do. At least that's one good thing about being a miclone, eh?" Cal snickered at the fact that she doesn't care if she's overstepping her bounds as his superior officer. This is just another way for her to get back at him for everything he's put her through the last couple of weeks. "What's so funny?" "Nothing..."

Elsewhere on the ship, Will and Nene found some time to spend hanging out with each other outside of duty. The mess was relatively busy, feeding dinner to off-duty crew members. The two members of Pixie Team casually chatted over their meals. "So, how long have you and your sister been flying together?" Will asked. "We've both had a lot of flying background since we were kids. Our family has a strong military tradition, so we were always around planes and power armors. I don't even remember how old we were when we took our first flights. Klan joined SMS when she turned 17. I followed her some time later when I turned 17." "So, Klan's the older one, then..." "Yup, she's always been the leader type. She is extremely protective of those whom she cares about, but seems to ostracize anyone else she comes across."

Will nodded in acknowledgment. Nene wanted to know a little about his history as well. "I get the impression that you and Wagner know each other from the past?" "Oh yeah... we went to high school together. We knew each other, but we weren't good friends. He was just one of those guys who'd show up at a party here and there and you would exchange a conversation with him if you saw him there or in the halls at school. We did have a couple of classes together, too. He was always with his girlfriend everywhere he went, so he was usually distracted."

Nene reacted to Will's statement about Cal's girlfriend. "Klan told me that his fiancee had died some time ago. Are they the same person?" Will nodded with a saddened look. "Yeah, she died in some kind of industrial accident. He only recently told me about it because we didn't remain in contact after we graduated. I gotta feel sorry for the guy because of that. He seems to be doing pretty well, despite that." Nene was intrigued by this information. "I wonder if that's why Klan acts weird around him." Will raised his eyebrow before speaking, "What do you mean?"

"You don't think it's odd that she picks on him so much?" Nene asked. "No, I thought it was just the way she is. From what I heard, he's done some stuff that's pissed her off." Nene laughed at his response, "I guess that's how you'd see it. I do know my sister way better than you. Ha ha... Maybe it's her sympathy that keeps her from completely destroying him." Will laughed as well. "He did mention to me that Commander Klang had something else for him to be doing as punishment... Otherwise, he probably would have come to eat with us."

Nene began to process the situation in her mind. "Something about all of this just doesn't add up. I think I'm going to have to do some investigating to find out about this out-of-place behavior from Klan." Will became intrigued as to what Nene was talking about, "Why is it so out-of-place?" "I don't know yet. I mean, from what I know of Wagner, I'd think that the two of them would be getting along a lot better. They have a hell of a lot in common, especially having lost the most important people in their lives very recently." Not knowing anything about what Nene was talking about, Will asked about more details. Nene told Will about the ordeal in which Klan had lost Michael several months ago.

"Jesus... That's such a terrible thing to have happen to you. I see what you mean about them having that one big thing in common, though. I don't think Cal knows that about her," Will said. By now, Nene was starting to formulate a plan to get Cal and her sister to get along better. "I think I know what to do about this..." she said as she leaned forward and put her chin onto her clasped hands, "So, tell me more about yourself. Do you have anyone whom you regard as 'special' back on Aimo?" Will was a bit surprised at the forwardness of the question. He blushed just a little bit as he thought of the answer.

Several hours had passed since Cal had started his work in Klan's quarters. He patiently and quietly did what was asked of him since he just didn't feel like starting any kind of arguments anymore. Perhaps he was finally being tamed? Such thoughts were quickly ushered out of his mind as he assured himself that he was only doing it as a bit of a peace offering.

Right now, he was really thinking about when he was going to get a chance to get some more sleep. Luca would be returning from his escort shift in about 4 hours and Cal had a meeting with him in order to roll out the test countermeasures. In 12 hours, he was scheduled to return to escort duty, along with the rest of Team Pixie. It didn't look like he was going to be finished with Klan's "feats of strength" anytime soon, either.

Sure enough, Klan approached him about his progress. "You know, I do need to get to sleep sometime soon. Since you've decided to take your time here, I'm going to add a little more onto your workload." Cal sighed and rolled his eyes, being as obvious about it as possible. "You got a problem with that??" "Yes, Ma'am, I do." No longer able to avoid conflict with Klan, Cal had to speak his mind. She put her hands on her hips to express her displeasure. "You can't handle a little hard work, I see?" Cal took a deep breath because he knew he was about to stoke the fires of conflict.

"You know, at any point in the last few hours, I could have gone to Commander Lee about the 'special treatment' you've been giving me. I didn't, though. You wanna know why? Because I don't back down from a little challenge, I'll admit. Most importantly, I felt like I was doing what it takes to make up a little bit of favor from you. Simply because I have made some mistakes here and there, I felt like I should at least oblige to some of my punishments. I think you're going _way_ too far now," Cal angrily said. Klan got into his face to respond. "I'll continue to administer punishment as long as I see fit, you got that? The sooner you learn your place around here, the sooner it ends. You _will_ learn to respect your superiors."

Cal tried very hard to not let his anger burst while she was in his face. With a deep breath, he sternly responded, "I have to meet with Lieutenant Angelloni in less than 4 hours. That means I will be getting very little sleep tonight." "Well, that's just too bad, isn't it?" Klan said, faking sympathy, "You're done here for now. You can come back and finish when I wake up. I need you on bathroom detail until your meeting with Luca. Move out!" Cal somehow managed to hold his anger in long enough to get out of her quarters. Fortunately in doing so, he probably avoided any further increases to his punishment.

While on his way to clean the restrooms, Cal began to detest this extremely hostile behavior he's been getting from Klan. This goes way beyond any kind of "monthly visitor" rhetoric that guys are so quick use to blame erratic female behavior. He was certainly not looking forward to the next 24 hours or so. There's little to no hope of getting a decent amount of sleep anytime soon.

The source of conflict was not entirely contained within the hull of the Macross Quarter. The currently-deployed teams of VFs were running into more and more hostile Vajra nests, the further they incurred into the uncharted areas of the Kihnes Asteroid Belt. Both Alto's and Ozma's teams had encountered and destroyed frenzied nests, followed by brief encounters with one or more VF-27s, who were undoubtedly working for Macross Galaxy. Each attempt at disabling or destroying the 27s were met with the same results as Klan's encounter several hours earlier.

After just losing contact with a 27, Ozma couldn't just blow these encounters off as nothing anymore. "Alto, have you had any luck shooting any of these bastards down?" "Nope. They're slippery as hell, but what's really concerning me is the increase in their numbers. I think something big is about to go down." Ozma nodded as Alto's words mirrored his own. "No doubt, their entire operation is alerted to our presence and motives. I wouldn't be surprised either if we fall under a counterattack soon."

For now, the area remained secure, thanks to the efforts of the fleet's squadrons. In the minds of many of the pilots in Skull Squadron, they think about how much danger they are being put into with each escort shift they perform. The danger will probably increase during the next change in the fleet's position, and could lead to more than they bargained for.

Upon returning from his shift, Luca prepared for his meeting with Cal in the squadron briefing room. Cal seemed to be running a bit late, but Luca remained patient. He had already grabbed some food to snack on while they worked together, so he was busily eating to pass the time. A few minutes late, Cal burst into the briefing room with several manuals and technical specifications to use. He had a thermos of coffee and a couple of pastries stuffed under his arm. His overall uniform and appearance looked disheveled.

"Do you need some help there?" Luca asked as he noticed Cal was struggling to hold onto everything without dropping a single item. "Naw, I got it. Just give me a sec here..." Cal made it to the table and dumped everything out in a random pile, while trying not to drop his coffee and food. He took a moment to sort everything out and straighten out his uniform. Luca continued to chew on his food, somewhat entertained by the balancing act that Cal had just put on.

Luca noticed the tired disposition Cal was wearing. "I appreciate you getting up in the middle of your sleep time to get me up to speed here." Cal looked at Luca after saying that and just chuckled. "I haven't gone to sleep yet. This stuff is the only thing that's keeping me awake now," he said as he lifted up his thermos for a sip. "What have you been doing all this time?" Luca asked. Cal didn't really want to talk about it and proceeded with his rollout, instead of answering Luca's question. "Okay, let's get started here, shall we? We've got quite a few things to cover."

Cal covered the easy stuff first. The flashbang and fold-magnetic chaff countermeasures were pretty straightforward and Luca had no issues understanding how to use them. Cal briefly touched on the holographic projector, but didn't give it much time, due to its non-practicality. The real meat-and-potatoes of the rollout was the radome enhancements; IFF hacking and EM/fold signature neutralization.

"I heard you're a computer whiz, so I figured you'd love to hear all about these babies," Cal said. Luca was already poring over the technical specifications and manuals related to these systems. "You're right about that, Cal. I can already tell that these modules have a lot of promise. What kind of luck have you had with them?" Luca asked. "Well, I use the enhanced stealthing all of the time and it works like a charm. The IFF hacking is very intimidating to me, however. I am just not big on decryption... especially doing it midflight. This is one thing I really am looking forward to in giving you these enhancements. I think you'll make _much_ better use of them than I ever could."

Luca smiled at the compliment. "I'm already impressed by the schematics here. This is a project I wish I had gotten into earlier, but it looks like your friends at Bell-Casse beat us to it over at LAI." "Well, I am just glad that we'll be able to complete the testing for all of the systems. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to get them all done, considering my lack of expertise in advanced computer sciences." Luca shook his head at Cal. "It's really not that hard. I'll be sure to keep you up to speed on what I find out. You'll be able to quickly grasp the concepts with little explanation."

A couple of hours passed by before Cal and Luca finished with their meeting. They covered several RVF-related subjects and Cal offered a couple of additional pieces of combat advice for Luca to chew on. All in all, the two RVF pilots shared an enormous amount of information between each other that would serve them a lot of good in their upcoming missions. Unfortunately, Cal was running out of time before he could have any chance to get some sleep. He hurriedly bid Luca goodbye as he rushed to get to his quarters. Who knows when Klan is going to wake up and interrupt his sleeping schedule once again?

His quarters were quiet and dark. Will was fast asleep in his bunk and Cal did what he could to not wake him while he worked his shoes and uniform off. The bed felt so inviting as he sunk into the mattress, surrounded by the cool sensation from his pillow and sheets. Hoping to fall asleep only a few moments after closing his eyes, Cal focused his subconscious attention on how comfortable the bed felt, compared to the hostile environment he's been in for so many hours.

Before anything could happen, Cal's PDA began to chime from an incoming call. "Tch... what is it _now_??" he muttered as he fumbled to answer. "What??" he said into the phone. His conversation continued with the barely-audible voice crackling from the speaker on the phone. "But I just got to bed! It hasn't even been 8 hours. Fine... **Fine**!" he yelled. Frustrated, he sat back up and began to feel around for his shoes and uniform.

Will, woken by the phone call, rolled over in his bunk to get more comfortable while he tried to get back to sleep. "Who the shit was that??" "Don't ask. My life _sucks_ right now." Will yawned before saying anything else. "Klang?" Cal didn't answer as he grabbed his things and walked out of the quarters. Will started to think about how he did not envy Cal right now. All he cared about at that moment was that he was in the safety of his quarters, able to sleep some more before waking up soon.

...

"Hurry up and finish things in here. We have to be on the tarmac in a few hours." Cal gritted his teeth as he walked past Klan, who was staring him down. By now, he was just too tired to even fight about it. He managed to wrap most everything up and was in the midst of moving all of the furniture back into their places. Klan had left the quarters to get some food from the mess, leaving Cal to work alone in her quarters.

As he moved some of the final pieces into their places, Cal came upon an opened box full of pictures and various mementos. It looks like these are the items that were on top of her dresser before she removed them to do the cleaning. Despite being extremely upset at her, he wanted to take this opportunity to find out a little more about Klan's past. A couple of framed pictures showed her standing amongst old friends, it seems. Nothing seemed _too_ out of the ordinary so far. Cal unfolded a picture that showed a very young Klan playing with a miclone child. A touching, but peculiar picture... Cal wondered what it would have been like to have a Zentran as a best friend while growing up.

Folding the picture up and putting it back into the box, Cal dug around for a moment longer and pulled out a pair of glasses. "I didn't know she wore glasses. I know her eyes are sharp as hell when she's flying. I guess it's another genetic anomaly she has to deal with when she's in her miclone form," he said to himself. They seemed a bit large for Klan's head, though. To test this theory out, he put them on his head. Before he could take his hands off of the legs, the doors to her quarters flew open.

Cal grinned at Klan, who was standing in the doorway with a shocked look on her face. "Hey Commander, I didn't know you had to wear glasses. How come I never see you with them on?" A harmless question from a curious individual... Klan's point of view was far different, though. For a single microsecond, she thought she was looking at Michael standing in her quarters. As quickly as it came, though, the illusion shattered and revealed the one person who's been causing her a lot of grief ever since they met a few weeks ago.

Suddenly reminded of Michael's image, Klan's eyes were welling up as she was preparing to yell. "Take those off of your face right now!" Cal reacted quickly and removed them from his head. Klan walked up and snatched them out of his hand and grabbed the box of mementos. She cradled them in her arms as she proceeded to unleash her anger at Cal for being so nosy. "What gives you the right to go through my stuff?? Do you have any idea how valuable these things are to me? These are some of my most private belongings and you took it upon yourself to go sifting through them!"

Cal wanted to apologize, but it wasn't like the box had "DO NOT TOUCH" written all over it in multiple colors. "Well, I just found this box and it was opened. I've spent several hours getting to know your floor, furniture, and laundry on a more-than-personal basis and you're gonna expect me to not come across some of your belongings like that?? If you didn't want me to find them, you should have kept them out of my sight, like you so painstakingly did with your unmentionables."

Klan had to fight back the tears from the reaction to Cal going through her most treasured belongings. At the same time, she was becoming more angry that he was arguing back again. "I never thought I'd put up with someone who refuses to learn his place. No matter how much I punish you, you still argue with and disobey your superior officer." Klan felt the water works beginning to fire up the pumps behind her eyes. "Just get out. Go!" she said, pushing Cal out of the door with her free hand.

The door closed behind Cal, with him wondering what the hell is wrong with Klan. He slowly walked away, looking at the time on his PDA. Cal sighed as he realized that there was only 2 hours left before he was scheduled to launch from the Quarter. It would just be better to not go to sleep and deal with it. The only time that was left was enough to grab some more caffeine and a muffin from the galley.

Fresh from gathering up her composure, Klan stalked the halls looking for her prey. She came upon Cal's and Will's quarters and pounded on the door. "Wagner! I know you're in there. Open this door!" Nobody answered. She waited for a grand total of 6 seconds before punching a code into the panel on the side of the door. The door opened to reveal a dark and empty quarters. Cal wasn't there, and Will had already left the room to go take care of his early morning business, whatever that happened to be at the moment.

Klan entered the quarters, looking for something to get her hands into. She felt like she had to teach Cal what it was like to have his personal belongings fondled by another person. Immediately, she went for the items that were on the shelf near his bed. She took the VF models and tossed them onto the bed, which was already messed up from Cal's attempt at sleeping a few hours ago. The only other item was the frame with a picture of Cal and Marie happily smiling for the camera while they held each other close. Klan stared attentively at the couple, trying to imagine the kind of woman who'd put up with the behavior that he exhibits daily.

The door opened, and Cal stopped mid-step when he saw Klan in his room messing with his stuff. He had his thermos and a muffin in one arm, with another muffin in his mouth. A moment of silence followed as the two locked stares at each other. Cal calmly entered his quarters while removing the muffin from his mouth with his free hand. He chewed the bite he had taken nonchalantly while he put the food on his table near where Klan was standing. She still had the picture frame in hand.

"How does it make you feel to have someone going through _your_ personal belongings?" Klan rhetorically asked. Cal knew that if he reacted the way he wanted to, it would mean that Klan would have the upper hand. He also didn't want to react how she wanted him to. He casually shrugged and reached back down to grab his muffin for another bite. Klan carelessly tossed the picture frame onto the bed. It didn't have any damage done to it, but the point was made already. She snatched the muffin out of Cal's hand before getting into his face again.

"Well? Do you have anything you want to tell me?" she sternly asked, trying her best to intimidate him. Cal took a deep breath before answering. "I don't know why I even bother..." he said. Klan quickly responded, "Bother what?" Cal gestured his hand out, pointing his open palm towards Klan. "_This_. Why do I even bother putting up with you when all you do is try to crush my spirit? I thought that joining your team was going to be a great opportunity to get to know someone like you and who you are and it's been nothing but a goddamn roller coaster. It doesn't matter what I do or what I say, _everything_ pisses you off."

"We're not in a popularity contest, Wagner. This is the military. We're here to protect that which is important to us. If you don't like that, then you should have known better before you joined up," Klan responded. "Well, it looks like nobody else has a problem getting along with each other around here. When I met you, I could tell you were struggling to deal with the loneliness after the death of someone close to you, and it made me want to help you. The more I interact with you now, the more I see how self-destructive you want to be and it makes me want to not be around when you finally lose it." Klan reeled back a bit from the brazen response. "Well nobody asked you to help me. I was fine handling it on my own. You should learn to not stick your nose into peoples' business so much."

"Fine. I can see why nobody wants to hang around you anyways. All you do is berate them and put them down because they happen to show a little bit of concern for your well-being. Someday, you'll learn that that's what having friends is all about. It's about caring for someone and having that concern be reciprocated back to you. You can't tell me that you've never actually _cared_ for someone because why else would you have all of those pictures of that blonde-haired guy in that box??" Cal retorted. Once again, Klan felt like she was being hit in a soft spot. Unfortunately for her, she knew that Cal was onto something. Michael was generally the only person whom she cared about, but he never gave her the kind of reciprocation that she really wanted from him; until it was too late. Finding out about his true feelings for her at the moment of his death made her hate herself for waiting so long to tell him how she felt. Although they both knew that they cared for each other, neither had the courage or the strength to admit it to the other.

Klan became slightly enraged by the fact that Cal was right. Rather than answering the question and admitting that he was right, Klan fooled herself into thinking that this was another display of outright defiance. Her eyes burned in anger as she took a deep breath before speaking again. "You will turn yourself around and march your ass into the hangar. I want you in your EX-gear and ready to do laps. This is the last time I will have to tell you: 'Learn your place!'"

Cal had already said what needed to be said. He told himself in his mind that he was right about what he said to her. Accepting his fate, Cal quietly turned around and walked out of the quarters. Klan followed him closely behind with her arms crossed. At this point, Cal knew it was about time to have Ozma step in to handle the situation. Unfortunately, Ozma should be sleeping right now and he'd have to wait to come back from his next escort shift to talk to the Commander.

Cal took little time getting into his EX-gear and stood waiting at the usual spot that laps were walked. Klan had disappeared after they entered the hangar, but she re-emerged in her natural form. Her flightsuit could be seen under the large-sized version of the SMS uniform: dark olive green pants and the signature black and red jacket. She took position in front of Cal and folded her arms before speaking. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get started! You'll stop when I say it's time to stop."

Cal glared up directly into her eyes, making his disapproval as obvious as he could without uttering a word. He started walking his laps; each motion accompanied by the creaking and grinding of the moveable parts in the EX-gear. "_If she thinks she can intimidate me by doing this in her Zentran form, she's got another thing coming_," Cal thought to himself. He was determined to show her that he was not going to roll over so easily; especially when she thought it'd be a good idea to administer this punishment while she towered over him in her natural form. With each lap, he made a concerted effort to stare into her eyes as he approached her, and then turned away to continue with the other half.

"I know you hate me right about now. You just keep on staring at me like that and we'll see how long you last," she said, becoming more vigilant with every pass. Cal's will was unwavering, but his body was another story. He began to feel the massive fatigue setting in with every step. The lack of any sleep in the last 24 hours was beginning to catch up with him and in his mind, only one person was to blame for it: Klan. The room began to slowly rotate on its own from Cal's point of view. Either vertigo or nausea could be to blame for this irregular sensation. Fortunately for Cal, Team Pixie was due on the tarmac shortly. Klan impatiently tapped her foot as she began to realize how soon it was going to be before she had to let Cal get into his RVF.

"Alright, Wagner. Get your ass into your bird. We'll continue this when we get back," she said as she glared at him before turning away to get into her Queadluun. Cal stopped for a moment to check the orientation of the room. The spinning had not yet stopped and the nausea was beginning to set in. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he made his way to his bird while squinting to help alleviate the dizziness.

Throughout the entire shift, Cal's flying became erratic at certain times. It was erratic enough for his team mates to notice. "Cal, are you okay there, buddy?" Will asked. He knew that Cal had not gotten any sleep and was concerned for the well-being of his friend. Cal took a long time to answer. His voice was raspy and tired, "Yeah, I'll be fine." He cut the comm line after answering, as if he was hiding something. Cal managed to stay awake for the entire eight-hour shift. His return to the hangar could not have come one moment sooner, as every second out there seemed like an eternity to him.

He climbed out of the cockpit and started to head across the hangar towards the exit that leads to the living area of the ship. His flightsuit was noticeably stained from some kind of liquid emulsion. Even the canopy had several brown splotches on it. Before he could even get halfway across the hangar, Klan emerged from her Queadluun to stop him from leaving. "Where do you think _you're_ going? We still have unfinished business, chickling." Cal stopped his stagger and worked up the strength to look up at Klan and stare her down again to show his disapproval. Klan folded her arms as she saw that Cal had not yet learned the lesson she was trying to teach him.

"You got out of your EX-gear. Head back there and get it back on. You know the drill..." Klan said as she looked down into his piercing gaze. At this point, Cal could barely keep his balance, but he did his damnedest to continue to glare into her eyes. His vision began to come out of focus and blacked out entirely. Although his will was still strong, his body couldn't take it anymore. Trying to hold it in, Cal lost voluntary control of his mouth and spit out some vomit he had been holding. He fell forward and hit the deck with a very audible "thud" and remained motionless.

Klan puffed up from pride, having convinced herself that she had won the battle. "Wagner, you'd better not be faking it. You're just lining yourself up for more laps, you know." Will, who had seen Cal fall to the ground, ran up to see if his roommate was okay. Nene watched from behind Klan, concerned about the look on Will's face as he realized that Cal was now lying motionless on the hangar deck. Will tried unsuccessfully to wake Cal up from his unconscious state and looked up to Klan with an accusing stare. "What the hell did you do to him?" he demanded.

Klan unfolded her arms, a little worried that maybe she pushed him too hard. She quickly shook that worry from her mind and knelt down to prove that Cal was faking it. She prodded him with her finger, but his body remained motionless, a slave to her every applied force. She carelessly rolled him over and saw the emaciated look on his face. Cal's skin was extremely pale and his head was bleeding from the contusion suffered from the fall. It was an image that she would not soon forget... not to mention the looks that she was getting from Nene and Will.

...

A few people waited outside of the infirmary for some news, including Pixie Team. The pilots traded only silence and the occasional glance as they anticipated the diagnosis. Several minutes passed before the infirmary door opened and Kanaria emerged to deliver the results. Will and Nene got up from the bench they were sitting on to hear what Kanaria had to say. Klan remained seated, looking off into the distance. She only glanced at Kanaria once before returning her gaze to the same place as before.

"He'll be fine. It looks like he just needs rest. His body is suffering from exhaustion and extreme dehydration, brought on by the heavy amount of vomiting he had been doing while in flight. He seems to have recently contracted a flu virus, which is what caused the nausea and made him regurgitate everything back up. Apparently, he's been drinking a hell of a lot of coffee lately. Do any of you have any idea why he'd drown himself in so much coffee?" Will and Nene looked at each other; they had already agreed to keep this incident within the team until they could resolve the situation internally. They shrugged at Kanaria, who then turned her gaze to Klan. "Klan? Do you have any idea?"

All she could do was look back at Kanaria with a vacuous expression. Will interjected before any more scrutiny could be placed onto Klan. "Ma'am, what needs to happen to get him back to normal?" Kanaria turned back to Will to answer. "I've set him up with an IV drip to restore the water and electrolytes that his body needs. Right now, he needs to rest and sleep off the flu he's carrying and that nasty bruise on his head will heal up just fine with time." "Can we see him right now?" "I don't see why you'd want to. He's still out like a light. If you insist, go ahead. Just don't spend too much time in there. I don't want any of you to catch the flu, either." Kanaria continued down the hall to the desk nearby. She began to punch her medical reports into the computer while Team Pixie worked up the strength to go see Cal's condition inside of the infirmary.

Klan didn't seem to want to move under her own power. She was fighting with herself internally; deciding on what course of action to take moving forward, and thinking about the shitstorm she was bringing down on herself over this incident. Ozma was definitely not going to be happy to hear about why one of his pilots came so close to kicking the bucket because of her. "Come on, Klan," Nene said as Will went ahead of them through the infirmary doors. Klan remained motionless and it only incensed Nene's frustration with her sister. She reached down and grabbed Klan's wrist and dragged her inside. Klan only fought back a little bit, but she relaxed and accepted the fact that she didn't have a choice anymore.

A soft lamp glowed above Cal's bed, giving just enough light to see clearly; but not too much to disturb the sleeping patient. His bed was closest to the window leading to outer space. The stars in the distance slowly traveled longways across the visible area. Cal now wore a green hospital gown; his expression was empty while his body fought to replenish itself with the life-giving liquid flowing from the IV drip inserted into his arm. An EKG monitor beeped rhythmically in the background, informing anyone nearby of the condition of the patient's cardiovascular system.

Cal's skin color had pretty much returned to normal. He still looked a little thin from not having retained what little he'd eaten for the last day. Nene turned to her sister to gauge her reaction. "So, what happened?" she asked. "So, I put him through a little extra-curricular activity. He couldn't handle it," Klan said, shrugging. Nene was appalled at her nonchalance at the situation. "Okay, we need to talk about this in more detail, Klan. We have a few hours before Ozma comes back from his escort shift. He's gonna be looking for an explanation the moment he steps out of his Valkyrie. Let's hope Wagner wakes up soon so we can talk to him and figure out what to do about this."

Klan's eyes opened in surprise that her sister was being unusually ambitious about this. Although Nene is usually soft-spoken and reconciliatory, her sudden and swift reaction to this incident is refreshing. "I wasn't aware that you were the team leader here. When were you promoted?" Klan sarcastically asked. Nene stared into Klan's eyes; the same look that her sister has been using against Cal. "It's time that someone steps in here and mediates this problem. Obviously, you two can't be trusted to work things out, so I'm going to take it upon myself to fix the issues. I'll talk to you after I've talked to him first."

Klan wiped the smarmy grin off of her face. "Alright. Let's see what you can come up with. I'll be in my quarters if you need me." Will and Nene watched Klan casually walk out of the infirmary. She had undoubtedly washed her hands clean of the situation until Nene was to talk to her. Nene turned to Will to speak. "I'm sorry. I honestly don't know what's going through her mind right now. I'm actually a little uneasy about this behavior she's been exhibiting lately." Will put his hand onto Nene's shoulder with some tenderness. "Let me know if you need some help." He left Nene alone in the infirmary so she could be alone with her thoughts for a bit.

Nene was just getting comfortable having two miclones as her wingmates. The last thing she wanted to happen was to have the integrity of the team put into jeopardy. Her growing attachment to Will had transferred a bit to Cal, seeing as how the two guys were good friends with each other. Despite the cold, careless behavior coming from her sister, she knew that Klan's integrity as the squadron's XO was also in a bit of trouble. Ozma would not take this well if the truth to Cal's hospitalization came out. Will had mentioned to her the events that led up to this outcome. It was plain to see that Klan was determined to wear Cal down to this point. Whether or not she intended on him nearly meeting his death over this, it was still disturbing to Nene that her sister can be so nonchalant about it. This needed to be addressed very quickly or the ugly truth will make its way to the surface eventually.


	18. Mending the Wounds

The bright morning sun shone onto the Presidential mansion located in the midst of the winding maze of highways and buildings in Frontier City. A garrison of local security forces stood in place at key checkpoints, while a very large group of protesters peacefully demonstrated their disapproval of the government's most recent decisions. Several news crews worked their way amongst the crowds, interviewing attendees to get their opinions on the issues.

A reporter approached a sign-wielding protester. "Why are you here today, sir?" "The Frontier Government has seen fit to misappropriate colony resources to help the Zentraedi fleet build their factory. They haven't even done anything to earn their share around here. Why do the rest of us citizens need to be inconvenienced while we appease the warmongers?" The reporter turned back to the camera to issue his opinion on the matter. "Strong words, indeed. Does this crowd of protesters represent the growing dissatisfaction amongst the populace? Several reputable political groups and their supporters have locked horns in the debate. Is this a question of right or wrong? It will be up to the people to decide and express their opinion in a local forum such as this." The reporter opened his palm out to show the expanse of the crowd gathered outside of the mansion's grounds.

Cathy Glass sat in her home watching the news in her civvies. Today was her day off, but it looks like she will be enduring a little bit of stress over the recent protesting. The news channel changed over to a round-table debate between political commentator heavyweights. One commentator had already begun talking while the others patiently waited their turn. "My opinion on this is that we should welcome the Zentrans with open arms. So what if they need resources to build a factory and their base? I welcome the addition of their grand fleet to help us secure the system from anyone who dares to attack us. The construction is creating thousands of jobs for our populace to work in."

Another commentator butted in to retort, "But at the cost of what? Now that means that we will not be able to complete several of our projects in Frontier City until the factories on Island-1 can catch up to the production of the raw materials we need. That means that Frontier City's growth remains stagnant, while Laplamiz will explode in size. Does that seem fair to you?" The next commentator decided to add his opinion, "If the Zentran population would just miclone themselves, we wouldn't be having so many problems trying to accommodate their living situation. I think the government should just mandate the micloning of them all and we'd be done with the issue once and for all."

The mediator and host of the show interjected. "Be careful of what you say, sir. It's firebrand statements like that that get people in a lot of hot water." The fourth commentator decided to finally speak up. His expression was somewhat angry at the things that were being said all around the table. "I think that too many people have lost sight of what it means to be 'free'. If the Zentrans choose to live their lives in their natural sizes, so be it. We did just fine during our voyage through space to get here. Why is it such a big deal, all of a sudden? A government mandate to have the Zentrans miclone themselves would be completely unconstitutional."

One of the previous commentators re-entered the conversation. "Then why don't we just find a way around the constitution for the good of the people?" The last commentator responded, "The constitution was written in a way to prevent the abuse of power by the government. The people can overwhelmingly vote to change it, but to circumvent its safeguards entirely would only lead to further abuses by anyone who wanted to use this as precedent. It's not just an issue of 'doing what's right', it's an issue of making sure that there will be no exploitation in the future..."

Cathy had heard enough of their jibber-jabber and turned off the television set. Her fears of public outcry were beginning to manifest and there seemed like little she could do to fight them. However, there was a handful of people she knew very well who could do a lot to assuage the dissent amongst the citizens... not to mention a certain individual who was at the front of the lines out there fighting to secure more resources for the colony to use. Cathy picked up her cell phone and began to punch in a text message.

...

While he sat on a bench in the park, the PDA on Cal's hip began to notify him of an incoming call. Picking up the PDA and putting it to his ear, he answered. "Hello?" "Calvin..." The voice was familiar again. Cal casually leaned back on the bench to relax. "Hey, Marie. What's going on?" The voice did not answer right away. "Hello? Are you there?" "...you need to wake up." Cal pulled the PDA away from his head and looked at it with a confused disposition. Suddenly, he realized that he was stuck in a dream again.

The park that he was in slowly turned to black. A series of memories started to flash by in front of him. The occasional familiar face would appear off to the side and give him a cheery look. Each image that sped by was reminiscent of some of the most recent events that had transpired. It's as if his mind was reclaiming its memory and putting events back into order. The last picture that appeared was the last thing he saw before losing consciousness. Klan stood over him as the image began to blur out of focus and eventually turned to black again.

As he fought to regain control over his body, Cal strained to open his eyes and become aware of his surroundings. The darkness of his vision split at the middle and expanded in each direction, revealing a very blurry image once again. A few moments passed while his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the lights on the other side of the room. As the infirmary came more into focus, his mind began to wonder if he had been dreaming for a long time and he was back in the hospital on Aimo. His body established its surroundings as unfamiliar, though. The feeling told him that he was in a different place than he had originally thought.

Several moments passed as his motor skills began to check in as "green". A movement here and there reminded Cal of how to operate his body once again. He sensed a presence to one side and turned his head to see what it could be. Jen Wentz sat patiently, keeping herself busy by either drawing or writing on a notebook that she held in her lap. Upon seeing Cal coming out of his unconscious state, she put the notebook down on the table next to her.

"Hey, you..." she said with compassion in her voice. The lights were still a bit bright for Cal's eyes and he squinted to control the brightness of what he was seeing. Feeling a tightness on his arm, he looked down to see the hypodermic needle from the IV firmly placed under his skin. Two pieces of medical tape formed an 'X' over the entry point to hold the needle in place. He felt several leads from the EKG machine attached to his chest, wrists, and ankles. Suddenly, the sensation of pain returned as that part of his brain checked in "OK".

Cal winced at the massive headache he was now feeling. Both the hit to the head from his fall and the dehydration he suffered contributed to this King of Hangovers. He put his arm up to his head and felt the bandages wrapped around it. The ice pack covering his bruises and cuts returned the slight ache of coldness. Jen reached over and pulled his arm down away from his head. "Don't fuss with it. You need to keep those on." "Argh... what happened?" Cal asked. Jen frowned at him in pity. "I was hoping you could tell me. All I know is that you fainted in the hangar and smashed your head on the deck. Lieutenant Berstein told me you were massively dehydrated and exhausted. What were you doing before you fainted?"

Cal tried to remember what was going on, but was finding it hard to pull up those specific memories. He tried to laugh, "Must have been one hell of a party!" The laughing only made his head hurt a little more. Jen smiled at the fact that his sense of humor was alive and well. She pulled her phone out and quickly punched a text message in. After sending, she put it back on her hip and continued to talk to Cal. He was trying to sit up to get more comfortable. "How long was I out?" Jen reached over and manipulated the controls on the bed so it would prop up his upper torso. The mechanical whirring of the bed's motor positioned Cal to where he wanted to be. "It's only been a couple of hours, but they seemed like much longer."

Cal looked back over to Jen. "Have you been sitting here all this time?" "No, but I have been here for some of it. I have to keep watch over you so we know when you finally come around." Jen leaned back in her chair after changing the setting on the bed. "I'm glad you're doing better now. When I heard the news, I got down here as quickly as possible." Cal's memory began to return to him and he started to piece together the chain of events that led to him being in a hospital bed again. Jen continued speaking, "The word is that you were just overworked. You flew your entire escort shift while sick with the flu and you never tried to request to be relieved. I don't know how you couldn't think that it wasn't a great idea to be out there flying your RVF after you started throwing up in the cockpit. You're one crazy fool, you know that?" Cal realized that she didn't know the whole truth. His issues were with Klan and only her. It was nobody else's business, except maybe Commander Lee's.

Jen continued to keep Cal company for a few more minutes. She couldn't let him fall back to sleep quite yet. Her reasoning was explained when Nene and Will walked through the door. Jen saw them come in and gathered up her things to leave. "Where are you off to?" Cal asked. "I need to return to duty. I am just glad that I was the first person you saw when you woke up. I'll come by to see if you're awake once I get off my shift. Bye!" Jen stood up and gently patted him on his shoulder. Will and Nene approached his bed as Jen walked out the door. Their faces showed concern and a bit of pity for the condition that Cal was in.

"What's wrong?" Cal asked, in reference to their dispositions. "I asked Lieutenant Wentz to let me know when you woke up. We have to talk briefly. I am sorry if we're keeping you from catching up on your rest, because I know you need it badly," Nene said. Cal shifted in his bed. "Surprisingly, I don't feel tired... yet. It might just be because I still have some crossed wires up here," he said while pointing to the side of his head. The two visitors smiled briefly in response as they each took a seat next to his bed. Their faces turned serious once again.

Nene spoke first. "We know most of what happened between you and Klan over the last day and a half. Needless to say, we're concerned enough to have to step in and mediate here. I want to apologize on behalf of my sister. I am not sure what she's going through, but it's definitely manifesting itself in a very dangerous way. It looks like this is the result," she said pointing out Cal in the hospital bed. Will spoke up to put his two cents in, "Nene and I talked about what to do about this and we agree that we want to try to handle this internally before reporting it to Commander Lee. We have to iron this out before he returns from his escort shift, or there'd be too many questions for us to have to answer and contain the situation. That's why we're here bugging you so soon after being admitted into the infirmary." Cal nodded, indicating that he understood.

"Do you mind if I call you Cal?" Nene asked. "Sure, knock yourself out," he responded. "Okay... Cal... I need your help in figuring out what the disconnect is between you and my sister. Honestly, I think this may turn out to be more of a personal conversation, so if you're okay with a little prodding from me..." Cal looked at Will for a moment before agreeing. Will got the message and got up to leave. "Alright, dude. I'll see you later." He left the room and Cal returned his gaze to Nene; followed by a nod.

"For awhile, I noticed you were showing attachment to Klan. Given your history together and how you came to meet each other, it's almost mind-boggling to me how you seem to just keep coming back for more punishment. I know she has not been receptive of anyone lately, and I doubt you were any exception to the rule, right?" she asked. Cal nodded in agreement. Nene continued with her questioning, "In my mind, there's only one reason someone would continue to put up with my sister when she's like that. Do you like her?" she bluntly asked.

Cal's heart thumped at the question, leaving that temporary burning sensation in his chest. "I _used_ to, kinda... Needless to say, a lot of that has changed." "How much did you like her?" Cal stopped for a moment to remember the conversation he had with Klan the week before. It was hard for him to explain his preoccupation with her without making it sound like he was some kind of stalker. He just felt a bit of a kindred spirit in her, seeing as how they had been living similar, almost parallel, lives lately. "I told her I kind of saw her as a bit of a role-model as far as being a pilot goes. Also, I could sense that she was still dealing with losing someone close to her. Having experienced the same thing myself, I wanted to offer my help as collateral for being able to learn from her on how to be a better pilot. She just doesn't seem to want any help, though. I know she's still hurting a lot and I fear that it may become self-destructive if she doesn't get off of the path that she was on back then."

Nene was surprised to hear that someone was almost unconditionally wanting to help her sister. Even before Michael's death, Klan was kind of overbearing to people whom she did not consider to be a friend. Right now, Nene felt that her sister had, in fact, degenerated to something to be very concerned about. She knew that the result of that degeneration was lying in a hospital bed in front of her. "Will has told me a lot about you and your past. From what I know of you, you and my sister have a lot in common. We had jokingly intended on trying to match you two together in a more personal way, but it looks like that's out of the question now. Right now, the priority is to make you two stop fighting with each other. We don't want to see you have to leave the team or for Klan to get into any trouble over this. What do you think is the best course of action?"

Cal thought about Nene's question for a minute. He could easily remedy the situation by reporting the truth about Klan overstepping her bounds with him. The result would probably lead to some sort of punishment being handed down to her for illegally putting one of her pilots' lives in jeopardy. On the other hand, Nene was more concerned about keeping the team together than protecting her sister. The ends may justify the means, in this case. Cal reminded himself of how important of a role that Klan had played in his life when he was fighting to earn a spot in Skull Squadron. Then he remembered that there seemed to be something more powerful at work in drawing his attention towards her. The brief moments of vulnerability he experienced in Klan from time to time showed him the true form of her inner self. That's a person he'd like to see more often. His desire for retribution melted away when he reminded himself of that sweet center of the hard shell that was Klan's personality. Coconuts certainly make a good treat, but they're hard to crack open without the proper tools.

He looked back at Nene before answering, "Let's do it your way." They smiled at each other after his response. "It looks like everything that Will has told me about you is true. You certainly are a big person for wanting to look past my sister's faults. Ha ha... I never thought I'd use the term 'big person' to refer to a miclone," Nene responded with a laugh. Cal smiled as he realized the paradigm shift between Nene and her sister. Although he had only guessed about her relationship with Will, Cal had to return the favor with a prying question of his own.

"So, what's going on with you and Will? I noticed you two spending a _lot_ of time together lately." Nene looked to the side with a smile on her face before she answered. "I don't want to say anything definitive right now, but we enjoy talking to each other and I appreciate his willingness to help me out here with this issue we're dealing with now. He's a nice guy and... I like nice guys." A hint of red started to fade into her complexion. "I gotcha. Well, good for you two. I'll have to keep an eye out for you guys once I get out of here, huh?" Nene tried not to laugh out of embarrassment.

She shifted in her chair to get back to the subject at hand. "Okay, I am going to go talk to Klan about this now and see what she thinks. I'm the only person she'll probably talk to at this point, so let's be glad that I'm her sister." Cal gained a look of seriousness on his face. "You're not going to tell her everything I said about her here, are you?" Nene had started to get up from the chair and stopped midway from standing for just a moment. "Well, I'll have to use _some_ of what you said. Don't worry, I'll try to censor the really mushy stuff so you can keep your little secret." Nene winked as she stood all the way up. "What are you talking about? What secret?" Cal demanded as she walked away. Nene didn't answer and walked out of the infirmary. Will could be seen sitting on the bench on the other side of the hallway. With nothing else to do, Cal rolled over and pulled the covers up to his shoulders. He found the bed controls and lowered it into a sleeping position before closing his eyes again.

…

The door to Klan's quarters resonated the knock coming from the other side. "It's open," Klan hollered from her couch. Nene opened the door and walked in to take a seat. "Oh, it's Professor Freud. What's up, Doc?" Klan said with a smarmy voice. She put down the book she was reading and folded her arms to receive the stern talking-to that she was expecting from her sister. Klan's smartass comments only steeled Nene's resolve to break this recent string of acting-out from her sister. She took a seat in the chair across the coffee table from Klan's position.

A sarcastic look of interest remained on Klan's face as Nene prepared to speak. "Klan, you're my older sister and I love you dearly, but... right now, I feel like I'm the one who's behaving more like an adult." "Ohh, so my little sister has grown up faster than I have, has she?" Klan rhetorically asked. Nene didn't have time to deal with her childish behavior. "Would you listen to yourself speak?? You're so convinced that you're in the right, that you won't give a second thought to the things you do and say. I love you, sister, but your attitude is getting kind of embarrassing. This isn't the typical behavior from you that I've grown accustomed to. What is going on with you?!"

Klan folded her arms and shifted her legs to the side a bit so she could comfortably look off to the side. Nene continued with the assault, "See, right there. You look like you're pouting. You're like a child who isn't getting what she wants and she's going to ignore everyone until someone comes along and fixes the problem." Klan looked back at Nene aghast at what she was just told. "This, coming from the one who always got her way when we were growing up? Every time you didn't get what _you_ wanted, you'd cry over it until mom or dad appeased your desires." "That was over _ten_ years ago!"

Klan scoffed at the audacity of her sister's accusations. Nene took a deep breath before moving on. "Don't you think that you're just being hyper-sensitive to the things he does and says?" "What's that got to do with it?" "Well, you are determined to 'break' him of his insubordination, but at what point has he actually been insubordinate _while on duty_?" Klan turned back to her sister to quickly answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing initially came out. "Um... I don't remember right now, but I'm sure it will hit me any second." "Or it won't at all? So, tell me, what started this spat in the first place?"

Klan reluctantly told Nene the details of the prank that Cal had orchestrated in her bathroom. Nene had to cover her mouth to hide the giggling at the story. "It's not funny. He broke in here in the middle of the night to do his business. That's downright scary." "So what? They broke into my quarters to put that damn anesthetic into my toothpaste. I didn't feel violated or anything... It was all in the spirit of hazing." "I'm glad you seemed to enjoy it so much. I don't feel the same way, though." Nene nodded in agreement. "Alright, you're entitled to your own opinion. I was just saying that it's not as ghastly as you make it out to be." Klan continued on with the details of the incident while Nene listened attentively..

"So, I decided to return the favor by forcing him to clean my quarters. What's the big deal?" Klan asked. Nene shrugged when she answered, "I don't see anything wrong with that, per se, but I do think you violently overreacted to his every objection to what you were putting him through. He had good reason to complain about it, seeing as how it's part of his duty to show up for his shift fully prepared to execute his responsibilities. You think he's going to do a great job when he hasn't slept, has been doing hard labor for 24 straight hours, and is sick with the flu?" The logic of sense of duty filled Klan's head when Nene put it in that context.

Looking down before answering, Klan shifted back towards Nene in her chair. "You're right about that. I wouldn't want to go into battle fighting off fatigue and the flu, either. He should have said something, though." "He _did_! He told you he was already being shorted some of his sleep so he could have that meeting with Luca. You forgot about that, didn't you?" Nene sternly asked. The cold reality of the truth began to set into Klan's mind as Nene continued with her point, "I do think he should have said something about being sick before or while we were on our shift. In that respect, I place the blame mostly on him. I think you and I can both imagine why he'd refuse to admit he was inundated with his condition at the time. You, of all people, would understand what it's like to be too proud to admit when you need help. Look what it got him and think about what _your_ stubbornness may yield some day as well."

Nene sat back up with pride, knowing she had just knocked it out of the park. Klan continued to stare at the ground while she thought about things for a moment. She began to speak without looking back up, "Okay... let's just say that you're right about this for a moment. Why not just let this incident play itself out naturally? I obviously must shoulder most of the blame for his condition, especially considering it's my job to ensure that my team is at 100% effectiveness before putting them into a combat-ready situation." Nene leaned forward to tell her sister about the agreement that she, Will, and Cal had made previous to their current conversation.

"Because, I know that Will and Cal are good people. They're also good pilots and good soldiers. I don't want to see your career taking a hit because of this. If this plays out naturally, one or more of us will most definitely be reassigned to new teams. I know that's what I'd do if I was in Ozma's position." "How can you be so sure of the kind of people that they are, Nene?" "Because, I took the time to sit down and get to know them. Being stationed on this ship is not all about performing your duty 24/7. You should know that... you didn't have any problems understanding it before Michael passed away. His death has been the crux of all of your current problems. You need to get past it to return to your former self."

Klan looked up with glazed eyes. Each time someone brought up Michael's death, it was just as hard for her to keep from crying a little bit. "Why does everyone keep telling me that??" she desperately asked. Nene focused her gaze onto Klan's face once again. "If so many people keep telling you the same thing, maybe they're right! Sometimes, you can't come up with the answers by yourself." Accepting the truth of the statement, Klan nodded her head and sniffled the tears back inside. "Alright. What do you want me to do?" she asked. "Well, we don't have a lot of time, so it's going to have to happen right now..." Nene responded.

…

Cal was awakened by someone tugging at his shoulder while he slept. "Hey, wake up." He grunted and slowly opened his eyes. Rolling over to see who it was, he could see a lot of blue before his eyes could even focus on any details. Realizing it was Klan, he rolled back over away from her. "Oh, it's _you_. What do you want?" His anger towards her could still be easily read in his voice. Klan looked back at Nene, who was standing farther back with Will at her side. Klan shrugged her shoulders and gestured at why the heck she was even trying this. Nene oscillated her wrist in a rolling motion with her index finger pointing out, as if to tell Klan to move forward.

"Look, um... I'm not really good at this sort of thing and I'm mostly here at the behest of my sister..." Klan struggled to say. Her sentence was being cut off by Nene making a choking noise and doing a slash-the-throat gesture with her hand. Klan sighed at Nene's reaction to her words. "Um, I'll admit that maybe I _did_ go a little too far earlier. I just... I don't know. I just want you to show some respect, that's all." Cal waited a moment before rolling back over to respond.

"But I _do_ show you respect. I even told that to you in person. The problem is that you can't take a joke. I didn't complain when you started making me clean up your quarters. To me, I was happily paying an indulgence; in the hopes that I could receive absolution from you over the prank. Unfortunately, you pushed things too far and it started to get out of hand when I expressed my disapproval over you handing down even further punishment. I told you I needed to get to sleep, and yet you didn't care. That's where _my_ problem started with you over this," he said. Klan realized that his words mirrored the ones that her sister had told her back in her quarters.

Before she could say any more, the infirmary doors flew open and Ozma walked in. He was none too happy, considering that Kanaria had just informed him of the situation for the first time. "What's going on in here?" he demanded. Klan, Will, and Nene began to answer simultaneously. "We were just visiting." "Nothing out of the ordinary." ...and so on... Their erratic behavior tipped Ozma off that something was not quite right about this. "Alright, I want everyone out of here. You too, Klan." The three saluted Ozma before hurriedly leaving the room. It looks like they were just short on time to resolve the issues internally.

Ozma continued over to the chair next to Cal's bed. Cal saluted and greeted the squadron commander. Taking a seat, Ozma made himself comfortable before talking to Cal. "What happened?" he simply asked. Cal had already started searching for an answer to that question before it was even asked. "I just overworked myself. I started to feel sick at the beginning of my escort shift and thought I could finish it out without having to get someone to replace me. I guess I was wrong." He tried to not let his eyes dart around, which would indicate that he was fibbing a bit.

Unfortunately, this conversation was not going to be easy for him to snake through. "You know, my Bullshit Alarm is going off right now," Ozma said while pointing at his head, "I heard reports that you were being put through some PT by Klan in the hangar. I also heard that you were seen cleaning the bathrooms again in the middle of the night. What did you do to piss her off now?" Cal calmly answered, "It was just a minor disagreement. You know how it can be sometimes." Ozma shifted up in his chair and looked down his nose back at Cal.

"So, that's what caused you to black out in the hangar?" "No, it was just bad time management on my part. I had that meeting with Luca in the middle of the night and I could have gotten some rest at any point in between. It's nothing to blame Commander Klang for. She was just doing her job." Ozma leaned forward to respond. "I'm not sure why you're protecting her, and quite frankly, it concerns me. All you have to do is tell me what happened and I'll get to work on fixing it." Cal laid silent for a moment as he thought about everything as quickly as he could before answering. "It was just bad time management on my part and I made a bad decision to fly my mission while I was experiencing flu-like symptoms."

Ozma knew at this point that he was not going to get what he wanted out of Cal. He stood up from his chair to say his final words before leaving. "Alright. Get some rest. If you think of anything that you need to bring to my attention on this matter, you know where to find me." Cal saluted Ozma as he turned. He knew that Ozma suspected something more than what had been said. The invitation to tell the truth was extended to Cal, should he feel that it's the best option.

As soon as the door slid open and Ozma walked out into the hall, Klan, Nene, and Will stood up from their seats and saluted. Ozma began to further suspect something was amiss, due to their quiet nature and quickness to stand at attention without even being asked to. Guilt was written all over their faces. "If any of you have anything pertinent to say about the matter, you'd better say it now," Ozma demanded. The three pilots continued to stand at attention, with nothing to say. He made it a point to stare at each one of them in the eyes, as he paced back and forth a couple of times. "If I find out that this was some sort of hazing prank, your asses will be **mine**. Walk with me, Klan," he said, casually gesturing to her with his finger to follow him as he walked away.

Will and Nene exhaled in relief as they watched Ozma and Klan go down the hall and out of sight. They wouldn't dare go back into the infirmary to talk to Cal about what was said, lest they arouse even more suspicion if Ozma came back and caught them. Kanaria looked up at the two from her computer at her desk. She continued to type away at the keyboard as she watched them go the opposite direction from Ozma and Klan. Even her instincts were telling her that they were up to something.

As they walked down the hall, Ozma kept silent for a few moments to give Klan some time to stew in her own juices. He started to shake his head before speaking, "I don't know why, but my instincts tell me that your team is protecting you. I intend to find out a little more about this on my own. You guys had better hope that I don't hear any more about this incident." "Yes, Sir." "Lieutenant Wagner says that he just did a poor job of time management and it caused him to overbook himself to where he didn't get any sleep. I confronted him about the reports I got that said you were PT'ing him in the hangar and that he was seen cleaning the bathrooms in the middle of the night. He simply wrote it off as a bit of a tiff between you two and he was the one who started it." Klan could only nod, seeing as how this was news to her at this point. She remained indifferent, due to the fact that her team was trying to keep this an internal matter, and the alibis had not yet been fabricated.

"Also, he blamed himself for trying to serve out the rest of his shift when he was obviously suffering from flu-like symptoms." Ozma stopped walking to make his point to Klan. "Since I have no evidence or testimony to corroborate with any of my crackpot theories here, all I can do is tell you that you will be reprimanded only for allowing one of your pilots to fly into combat while he was suffering from the flu. You know that part of your job is to ensure that your team is as prepared for combat as possible. You need to write him up for failing to report his sickness and for putting his team at risk because of it. If I find out anything else that makes me believe that something more is going on, I will be coming after you. I'm tired of hearing about you and Wagner butting heads all the time. This will be the last I hear about any disagreements you two get yourselves into, or I will step in and take care of it myself. Do I make myself clear?" Klan waited a moment before answering. "Perfectly, Sir." "Alright, then. Go get some sleep." Klan saluted Ozma as he continued down the hall without her.

She was a bit angry that her team would not allow her to be responsible for her actions. However, she knew that if the truth had come out about this, it would serve as a glaring blemish on her near-perfect service record. Unable to resist the urge, Klan ran back to the infirmary once she saw Kanaria leaving the desk to go to her quarters. Something was burning inside of her... something she _had_ to ask, or she would have difficulty sleeping that night.

Cal had not yet fallen asleep since his mind was preoccupied with what was taking place right at that moment. He heard the infirmary doors open and close. Soft footsteps signaled the approach of someone. The reflection in the window showed a short, blue-haired figure taking a seat in the chair next to him. Still turned away from his visitor, Cal sighed before speaking, "What is it that brings you back here so quickly, Commander?" A moment of silence followed as he could hear her shifting in her chair a couple of times. This must be quite uncomfortable for her.

Her voice broke the silence. "Why do you keep on protecting me?" Initially, Cal didn't know how to respond to the question. He rolled over to face her, after thinking about it for a few seconds. "To be honest with you, I don't know why, for sure. At this point, I really don't have any reason to protect you, do I?" Klan shook her head in response. Her temper and stubbornness were partially responsible for his current condition. Cal kept on talking, "I don't blame you for asking that question. I'd probably be just as bothered by these events as you are now. Something keeps telling me that I'm doing the right thing, though. Your sister had to make a good point to get me to go along with her plan, so don't be too flattered."

With a mischievous grin, Klan responded to Cal's little cheapshot, "I never would have dreamed of taking it that way." Both of them were unsure if they should laugh or just stay quiet. Klan reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out Michael's glasses. She kept them folded as she held them in her lap with both hands. Cal studied her body language as she looked down at the floor to think of what to say next.

"His name was Michael." "Commander?" Cal said, unsure of what she was talking about. She looked back up at him to continue, "The blonde-haired guy in those pictures you found in my quarters... These belonged to him." Cal now understood some more specifics of the source of her inner pain. "Oh..." he said as he looked at the glasses in her hands. He knew he wouldn't have to ask her of the details. The expression on her face said that she was about to say more on the subject.

"We first met at a very young age, and we grew up together. I was a couple of years older than he was, but he was the first miclone child I had met who didn't run away scared of me. We instantly formed a bond and became quite inseparable over the next several years. This may sound a little weird, but when you were a child, did you ever have a toy or doll that you took with you everywhere you went, and you anthropomorphized it into something like your best friend?" Cal thought about all of the toys he had as a child and remembered several of his possessions where he did the same thing. "Yeah, I had a few..." "It was like having your favorite toy come to life and become your best friend. I know that sounds weird, but the closest way I can think of to describe it, without making it seem sort of perverse..." "No, no... I understand."

Klan smiled and continued her story, "Anyway, to me, he was my most valued possession. Being older and so much bigger, I sort of served as his guardian.. his protector. If anyone was picking on him, I was always the first to come to his defense. Eventually, the years passed by and as he got older, he became more independent. I started to see less and less of him because he was making other friends who were more like him... other miclones. It was hard to accept, but I was happy that he was finding his own identity and learning to live amongst people who were more like him." Cal interjected because he wasn't sure of why this would be an issue, "But who cares if you two are that different? I don't understand why he'd choose to exclude you simply because you and he came from completely different backgrounds."

She shook her head and responded, "No, it was okay. We still remained good friends. I was getting to the age where I needed my independence as well. We both understood that it was slightly socially awkward for us to be seen together at all times. I was a couple of years older and Zentran-ized. We would frequently visit each other and we had no qualms talking out our problems with each other, so it was not like you think it is." Cal looked downwards as he spoke, "Well, I just don't like it when people think that just because you're a different race and the difference in physical size is so much, it's taboo to be seen hanging around together. Especially when you two had such a good friendship."

Those words slightly struck a chord inside of Klan. From his point of view, it's only the bond that mattered between Michael and her. She went on, "When I turned 17, I joined SMS as a pilot. My love of flying took over as the most important thing in my life. I saw very little of Michael, since I was spending so much time working and still going to school. For those two years, we slowly drifted apart. Then he applied to join SMS a few years after his sister's death. His love for her fueled his desire to become a sniper pilot just like she was"

"What happened to his sister?" Cal asked. Klan shifted herself to hit on the side-subject for a moment. "Um, long story short, she was the one raising him. They both had lost their parents when they were little, so she took care of him. Jessica was kind of like an older sister to me... I mean, we were both taking care of Michael together. I was more or less just keeping him out of trouble, though. About... five or six years ago, she passed away. I can tell you the details some other time." Cal nodded as he understood.

She returned back to the original subject, "When he joined SMS, he was all grown up. In the two years that we didn't see each other very much, our old relationship dissolved. However, seeing him once again, now as a man, made me form a different set of feelings. Using our past as a foundation, we became the best of friends again, but my point of view was different. I was still in love with flying, but he was also a good pilot and loved flying just as much as I did. We had a lot of good times serving together and as the weeks went by, I began to hold a torch for him." "You were falling in love with him?" Klan nodded at Cal's question before continuing.

"When I joined SMS, I was required to undergo the micloning process for the first time. I understood that it was necessary, since I was to be serving on ships designed for miclones... especially after construction on the Quarter was completed. Imagine my surprise when I emerged from the tank with the form of a much younger version of myself," she said as she pointed at her body. Cal smiled, but tried not to stare while Klan kept on talking. "I had my heart set on being able to finally live life alongside Michael, no longer a giant. Unfortunately, you can imagine how insecure it made me about myself and how uncomfortable it might have made Michael when I was around him. It was a significant change to have to get used to... for both of us."

Cal could begin to feel the frustration of the situation coming from Klan. "There was always the option of him macronizing himself..." Klan shook her head and responded, "At the point that we were at in our relationship, I wouldn't have dreamed of asking him to undergo the process. I still didn't know if he felt that strongly about me. I continued to probe his personality to see if I could get an inkling of his true feelings. It made me so jealous how he'd ogle other women with fully-developed bodies, unlike my own when I'm micloned. Because of his wandering eyes, I knew that he might have a problem with being with me in the way that I wanted. It's completely understandable... I was too afraid of having him reject me because of my appearance."

Frowning at her story, Cal put his opinion out on the table, "Again, it shouldn't be about the differences. I _guess_ it is something to be uncomfortable about, but what matters is the bond you shared." Klan rolled her eyes as she responded, "If only it were that easy... Anyway, things were rocky in a social setting. We still flew together, but outside of our service, it was obvious that we were unable to overcome those barriers to get closer together. Even I became frustrated at myself for not being strong enough to admit my feelings to him. By the time I had mustered up the courage to admit to him that I loved him, it was too late. Shortly after I told him, he was mortally wounded by a Vajra larvae and subsequently blown into outer space through a hull breach. He died protecting me while I was in the micloning tank, returning myself to my natural size so I could help fight the Vajra who had invaded Island-1. All those years, I protected him without fail... but when he needed me the most, I was helpless to save him. With his last breath, he apologized that he didn't tell me sooner... that he loved me."

Cal laid on his bed with his mouth hanging open while Klan finished her story. Upon seeing her begin to cry, he closed his mouth and winced his eyes shut. After a few moments, he opened them back up and sniffled up the tears that were trying to come out. "Wow. That's an incredibly sad story. I understand a little more about the pain you're going through. Now I'm beginning to think that not everybody's pain is the same--" "But it's close enough," Klan interrupted with a smile. She sat back up to put herself back together and wiped the tears from her eyes.

It was refreshing to Cal that Klan would willingly place the magnitude of her pain at the same level as his. She really was trying to come to an understanding. "I'm sorry I've been so tough on you. I don't want to blame it on the pain I've been experiencing, because when it really comes down to it, only I am to blame in the end. Nene says that you and I have a lot in common... and she's right. Maybe we can give this 'friends' thing another try, huh?" Klan extended her hand outwards towards Cal. He looked at it for a moment and put his hand in hers to shake it.

The two remained silent after shaking hands. Cal continued to watch Klan, as if something strange was about to happen. She started to wonder why he was staring. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Cal laughed and looked downwards. "It's just that you've never really apologized to me before." Klan turned her face to the side and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes while wearing a smile. "Don't push your luck, chickling." She got up from her chair and prepared to leave the room.

"Alright, I've kept you awake long enough. You need to rest so you can get back into your bird. I need to find myself a replacement RVF pilot until you get out of here, so don't take too long recovering." "Okay, Commander." Klan stopped for a moment and turned back to Cal. "You can just call me 'Klan'... only informally, though. If we're on duty and you need to refer to me formally--" "I understand completely," Cal interjected. "Okay. Get better soon," she said as she leaned over and mussed up his hair. Cal recoiled and winced in pain because she mashed the bruise on his head. "Oops, I forgot... ha ha..." Cal put his hand up to his head and laughed back.

He opened his eyes again to speak. "Thanks, Klan." She turned around before leaving the room to respond. "Hey, you _do_ know how to say 'thanks'!" With that, she left with a smile. Cal laughed at the fact that she could take his little jab from earlier and return it back at him with a calm delivery. All he had left to do was to follow her orders to recover quickly... a duty he'd wholeheartedly perform without question.

It looks like Pixie Team is going to be able to stay together, despite having weathered quite a storm in the last 24 hours. Their leader, Klan, is starting to show signs of finally recovering from her emotional scars. She and Cal have come to a more mutual understanding, thanks to the efforts of Nene and Will. It should only be a matter of a couple of days before Cal will be able to rejoin his team in their duties. All four members of the team can now rest assured that the bickering has stopped for now. They can now focus on being teammates; and even friends while they are off-duty.


	19. A Step Forward

With the aura of internal conflict lifted from the pilots in Skull Squadron, their minds can now turn their focus towards performing their duties. Despite running into staunch opposition from the Vajra nests and several VF-27s, the Quarter has not suffered many casualties. Their organization and piloting skills have proved fruitful in setting the standard of performance for the fleet. However, the shadow of a threat looms somewhere in the Kihnes Asteroid Belt. It may be only a matter of time before the Quarter and its accompanying fleet will be put to the test. If and when it happens, it will be time for heroes, old and new, to make the difference in the conflict. For now, the crews of each and every capital ship perform their duties and live their lives normally. They stand vigilant; ready to spring to action at a moment's notice.

Captain Wilder patiently waited for the airlock to open at the docking area of the Quarter. The words of the admiral at NUNS HQ on Aimo echoed in his mind, "_Captain, we're concerned about the readiness of your ship. I would like for you to take on at least two command-level officers to help support you on your ship. I don't feel that you're able to fully conduct your duties as Fleet Captain and be in charge of your ship at all times_." Monica accompanied him in front of the airlock and noticed that he was in deep thought. "You're not liking this idea of leaving your ship in charge of a couple of other officers, are you?"

Wilder snapped out of his thoughts to answer Monica's question. "It's not that I don't want them here, it's just that I thought I could shoulder this responsibility on my own. I guess the older I get, the better I _was_," he said with a shrug. Monica still didn't like it when he put too much on himself. "Jeffrey, if you really thought that you could handle all this on your own, then you're only fooling yourself. Remember that the better you can do your job as the Fleet Captain, the safer we will all be." Even though he didn't want to admit it, her words were what he had been thinking about anyway. "Yes, you're right about that. It's taken me a bit to figure out, but I have to respect that the NUNS just wants to keep their soldiers as safe as possible and my decision to try to take on all of that responsibility on my own was very risky."

They smiled at each other in an aura of agreement until a mechanical clacking and whirring began to sound from the other side of the bulkhead. The airlock hissed as the interior door opened to allow the passengers to disembark from the shuttlecraft docked to the outside of the ship. Amongst a handful of personnel, two officers immediately approached Captain Wilder and Monica. "Commanders Ortiz and Choi requesting permission to come aboard, Captain," they said with a salute. Wilder and Monica saluted in return as he answered, "Welcome to the Quarter. This is Lieutenant Lang, the ship's lead radar officer." Captain Wilder introduced his dear Monica to the new bridge commanders, who shook hands with them both after the salute.

The quartet of bridge personnel made their way into the interior of the ship, with Captain Wilder leading the way. They engaged in friendly conversation as Wilder and Monica began to give the two commanders a bit of a tour, before leading them to their new quarters. Suddenly, the crew of the Quarter got a little bigger, but it was an even bigger gain for their effectiveness, now that Captain Wilder will have more free time to focus his command duties towards leading the fleet. Even though his skilled crew is capable of operating autonomously without him, it can't hurt to have a competent bridge officer on duty at all times.

…

Aside from the TV, the infirmary was relatively quiet. The EKG monitor sat unused in the corner, and the IV had been removed from Cal's arm. He sat up in bed watching TV and drinking fortified water from a bottle. He used his free time to catch up on the happenings back on Aimo. The newscast he was watching was covering some of the citizen unrest taking place back home. Unable to stomach any more of the usual political rhetoric for the day, Cal changed the channel to another one of his soothing historical documentaries.

Before he could really make himself comfortable, the doors to the infirmary opened and Jen walked in; carrying his tray of food. "Dinner time!" She laughed as she placed the tray down on the table next to Cal and took a seat. Cal couldn't help but smile. He'd been left alone for awhile and could use the company. Jen picked up one of the plates and started to stir the food up and cool it off. "How are you feeling?" Cal watched what she was doing for a moment before he answered. "I'm doing fine... What are you doing?" His question was answered as she scooped up a bite with the spoon and put it in front of his mouth. She opened her mouth, as if to tell Cal what he should be doing. After he opened his mouth, she put the food in and mimicked Cal by closing her mouth at the same time as him.

"Since normally, you can barely keep your feet on the ground, I figured I'd come and spend some time with you while you're stuck in here," she said as she prepared another bite. "But do you _have_ to feed me my food? I can eat on my own, you know... I'm not some kind of quadriplegic," Cal said. Jen responded by forcing the next bite into his mouth before he could say anything else. At this point, nothing he could say would change her mind; the only thing left to do was just enjoy the pampering.

"Have you found out when they're gonna let you out of here?" she asked while continuing to feed him. After swallowing his bite, he answered, "Well, it looks like I'll be out of here tomorrow morning, but the plan was to wait another day before letting me fly." Jen brightened up a bit at the good news. "That's great! I have to admit, there's a noticeable decline in radio chatter when you're not out there. It'll be good to hear your voice on the comm again." "Well, it will be at least another day until I get back out there. Needless to say, I'll be very bored until then. Who's covering for me, by the way?" "Oh, Lieutenant Angelloni picked up your shift today. They should be returning from their patrol right about now, as a matter of fact."

The two stopped talking for a moment. Cal turned his attention to the TV for a moment, while Jen grabbed another food item off of the tray. She peeled the plastic covering off of the container and dug a spoon in to stir it. "I hope you're staying out of trouble out there." Cal turned his gaze back to Jen, as if he was trying to figure out what she meant by her statement. "Of course I am. I'm a complete saint. What could possibly make you think otherwise?" he said with a feint in his voice and a smile on his face. Jen stopped stirring the food in the container and stared at Cal. "You're such a liar. I heard about you getting in trouble with your commanding officer. As a matter of fact, I heard that's part of the reason you're in here now. From what I know of her, she's a dangerous one. You watch yourself around her, or she's liable to put you in this condition again. I can't allow that to happen again," Jen said with a mischievous smile.

After receiving a bite of food and swallowing, Cal responded, "I can handle her just fine. You don't have to worry about me." Jen had a look of disbelief on her face when he said that. "That's not very reassuring. Who's the one wearing a hospital gown here again?" Cal laughed at his bluff being called. "Don't worry, I think things will be okay from now on. So, how's things going up there on the bridge?" Jen looked down to scoop up some more food while she answered his question, "It's been relatively quiet since we settled into this area. We had our hands full securing this sector when we first deployed here, but it's like... I don't know if I should say it... a calm before the storm."

Jen's words accurately described Cal's intuition on the matter, as well. He may be in a hospital bed, but those "pilot senses" are still working at 100% capacity. "I get the same feeling, to be honest. We'll all have to stay on our toes, in case the shit hits the fan." Jen nodded and presented another bite. "If that's the case, we should enjoy the silence while it lasts... even if it's just for a day or two." She put the spoon and container down. Having gone through all of the food on the plate, she unwrapped the dessert pastry and broke it in half. She took a bite from one half and gave the other half to Cal, who watched her eat some of his food with a jealous look. She looked back at him before speaking, "My fee..." She seemed to overindulge in the sweet pastry, as if to taunt Cal with it.

He chose not to fall into the trap, so to speak. He already had some of the pastry in his hand anyways and began to eat it without reacting to Jen's behavior. "Oh, you're no fun..." she said as she reached over and put her hand on Cal's with a firm grip. She placed the last bite of the pastry in her mouth and scooted her chair closer so she could use both of her hands to cradle Cal's hand. She traced the contours of the lines on his palm and fingers with her fingernail.

"Mmm... that feels good. My mother used to do that to me when I was very small. It would always make me fall asleep when I was being fussy," Cal said as he laid back into his pillow and closed his eyes. It made Jen feel good that she was helping him feel better. It would only be another day or so that he'd remain grounded. After that, he'd probably be taking off to wherever again, leaving her behind on the ship. Ever since she had gone to Bobby for advice on how to handle Cal, she'd accepted that she'd have to take a backseat to his love of flying for now. Like any burning hot relationship, though, the honeymoon phase would be over at some point. Once that occurred, she knew she could have more of his company to work her magic on him.

Several moments passed and Cal began to nod off while Jen continued to run her fingers across his hands. Their shared moment of silence was torn in half by the sudden opening of the infirmary doors. Making a commotion while entering, the members of Pixie Team entered to check on their medically-incarcerated teammate. Their abrupt entry startled Cal and he lurched forward to see who was coming in. Jen had let go of his hand and quickly scooted the chair back as she turned to look.

"Alright, he's awake!" Will exclaimed, "How's it going in here?" Cal laid back down as he watched them walk around to the other side of the bed from where Jen was sitting. "They'll be releasing me tomorrow morning, but I'm not allowed to fly until I'm medically cleared," he replied. "Then I guess I'll have to find someway to keep you busy and productive while we're on our shift tomorrow, huh?" Klan said as she sat down at the foot of the bed. Jen glared at Klan for making such a statement to Cal, especially when he's laid up in bed in the infirmary. "_She just doesn't quit, does she_?" Jen thought to herself.

Cal took it a different way and seemed eager to get back into the thick of things. "I guess it would be nice to do something other than flying; but just this once." Upon seeing Cal's inviting nature, Jen began to suspect that he had an X-factor to his flying disease. She would have to do more investigating into it if she was to find a way to help Cal get through that honeymoon phase. Something inside of him made him want to keep coming back for more.

The four pilots of Pixie Team engaged in a discussion about pilot-related things. Jen felt somewhat left out, now that Cal was being distracted from her. She tried to listen to the conversation, hoping she could add something relevant, but they seemed to be going a mile-a-minute. All she could do was watch at how much Cal seemed to enjoy talking about flying with his wingmates.

After several minutes of observing, Jen got up to gather her things. All the while, she harbored some jealousy in her mind. She wished that she could hold Cal's attention as well as they could. Cal noticed her getting up out of the corner of his eye. "Where are you going?" "I have a few other things to take care of before I get to sleep. I'll leave you guys alone." She didn't have anything of a smile on her face as she said that. Cal felt a little bad that he ignored her so easily once his wingmates came in to visit. He tugged at a loose cuff of her uniform to get her to turn back around. "Thanks for coming to visit. I appreciate you spending some of your time with me, even though you have a bunch of stuff to do tonight." Jen tried not to look him straight in the eyes, but connected her gaze with his before answering, "You're very welcome, Cal. Don't be a stranger."

She left the infirmary while Klan, Nene, and Will continued with their chatter at Cal's bedside. Jen ran into a familiar crew member while walking away from the infirmary. "Hey, Lieutenant. Out and about tonight?" Jen tried to fake a smile while she shook her head. "No, just gonna spend the rest of the evening in my quarters." She had told a little white lie to Cal, in order to make it seem as though she had a harmless reason for leaving. The truth was that she wanted to spend alone time with Cal and that she was frustrated that he is so easily distracted from her... especially when it has to do with flying.

Back in the infirmary, Will and Nene were quiet as they took a couple of minutes to watch Cal's TV. Klan stretched out and laid sideways on the bed. "Just make yourself at home, Klan," Cal sarcastically said as he took some wadded-up napkins and threw them at her head. She picked them up and tossed them back. "This bed is damn comfy. I think I will take you up on your offer." To Cal, there was something soothing about seeing her at rest. It's a lot different than when she's moving at about at a million miles an hour.

Kanaria burst in to get rid of the pests. "Alright, it's time for you guys to let him get some sleep. Shoo! All of you." "See you tomorrow," they all said as they made their way out of the room. Kanaria was now the only person left in the room. "You get some sleep. I want to be able to release you in the morning," she said with a smile. "Yes, Ma'am," Cal saluted as he laid back down to finish watching his program.

While Cal prepared to go to sleep with not much to be concerned about on his mind, Jen sulked in her quarters. Her mind was preoccupied with thoughts about how she's going to be able to get what she wants. She knows that Cal appreciates her and what she does for him, but it's just not enough to be verbally thanked for her efforts. Realizing that her thoughts are showing an inherent selfishness, she shakes them from her head to clear things up a bit. She laid down on her bed thinking about how he liked it when she traced his hands. At least that was enough to put a smile on her face for now.

...

Bright and early the next morning, Cal stood at the exit of the hallway leading to the infirmary and took a deep breath before moving on. "A long, hot shower is just the thing I need right now," he said to himself as he made his way towards his quarters. He had a few hours to goof around in the morning before he was due to report for duty. Since he wasn't cleared to fly yet, he wondered what kind of tortuous work Klan had dreamed up for him to do during his shift.

Showered and dressed for duty, Cal met up with the rest of Pixie Team to eat breakfast. Klan and Nene actually graced Cal and Will with their presence for a meal. Yet another step was taken to reinforce the togetherness of the pilots. One of the other RVF pilots came up to remark at the bandage still on the side of Cal's head. "Hey Wagner, you've got a hole in your head..." he said as he leaned forward to speak into his head. "Hello... hello... hello..." the pilot faked an echo, "Just as I thought. Empty..." He poked the bandage and Cal reeled back in pain as several pilots who were watching began to laugh. "Get outta here..." Cal exclaimed as he swung his elbow back and hit him in the ribs. The group of pilots left the mess with a laugh. Klan, Nene, and Will snickered while they stuffed food into their mouths.

The four pilots of Pixie Team cheerfully ate their breakfasts while chatting with each other. From another part of the mess hall, Ozma ate his meal alone. He remained silent while he continued to observe the behavior from his most troublesome pilots as of late. Fortunately, everyone seemed to be in good spirits. It looked like there wouldn't be any more trouble from Pixie Team for a little while, at least.

Some time later, Cal leaned against the wall outside of Ozma's office as he waited for Klan to come and give him his assignment. Will found him first and approached him, already in his flightsuit. "So, what's the verdict?" he asked. Cal shrugged as he answered, "I don't know yet. I'm just waiting for her to get here so she can lay it on me." "You ready for anything, then?" Cal smiled at Will's question. "I'll be fine. I really wish I was going to be flying with you guys, but I guess I should start listening to to orders, huh?" Will could only manage a nervous chuckle.

Klan emerged from the stairwell several feet away. She always has a knack of showing up when she's being talked about. "There you are," she said as she walked by the two saluting pilots. She carried a notebook and tablet with her into Ozma's office. Will headed to his bird while Cal went into the office behind Klan and shut the door.

She took a seat behind Ozma's desk and began to punch some keys on the terminal there. Cal took a seat and patiently waited for her to tell him what his job was going to be. She finished working on the computer and turned her attention back to Cal. "Okay, I'm delegating some of my duties to you. You'll be doing some desk jockey work, so I don't want to hear about how you're being physically pushed too hard," she said with smirk. She pushed the notebook forward on the desk towards Cal. "This has several reports that need to be entered into the computer. You should be able to figure out how to do it. I entered my user information to log in, so don't do anything that will get me into trouble, alright?" "Yes'm."

She picked up the tablet and swiveled her chair to the side as she looked at it. "Your other assignment is to read this manual from beginning to end." She turned back towards Cal and placed it in front of him on the desk. "It's the manual we give to pilots who are going to be taking over their own team. It's required learning material for all first lieutenants, but I want you to read it now." She leaned forward and placed her hands down flat on the desk. "This doesn't _mean_ anything right now, but I am sure you will somehow manage to get promoted at some point in your career." She got up from the chair and started to head out of the office. "I have to get going. I'll talk to you in more detail about this later. I just want to say that all you have to do is keep your nose clean and I'll help you get where you want to go in the NUNS."

Cal was having difficulty thinking of how to respond. "Thanks," was all he could say. Klan continued out the door after nodding back in response. What an interesting development this is... Even though she couldn't quite admit it, she seemed to be willing to push him to improve himself. It was a welcome change of pace. Rather than restricting him, Klan was giving him room to grow.

Cal wasn't the only person on the ship who was being groomed for advancement, though. Monica Lang sat patiently at Captain Wilder's desk, working her way through an examination being administered through his computer terminal. Looks of frustration and consternation occasionally made their way onto her face, as she progressed through the test. The bridge remained relatively quiet as the rest of the crew anticipated the results of Monica's testing. Captain Wilder was among those eager to find out the results, although he maintained his steeled demeanor that all ship captains seem to be required to be capable of showing. The terminal next to him audibly notified him of some new information. His reaction to reading it exhibited relief.

Several minutes later, an exhausted and distraught Monica emerged from Wilder's office. She stood outside of the doorway for a moment before inhaling a deep breath and putting a smile on her face. The rest of the bridge crew watched for her reaction in a state of deep anticipation. Upon seeing the look on her face, they were sure that she had passed her examination. "Well?" Mena asked. Monica just nodded in response. Lam and Mena got up from their seats to give her a congratulatory hug. Monica had to downplay it a bit, though. "Relax guys... It's just the first of many tests that I have to pass. From what I hear, it only gets harder from this point."

Her words didn't sway the spirits of the other bridge crew. They continued to dote on her as if she had just won the Miss Macross contest. Captain Wilder got up from his chair to break up the little party and get Monica moving on her next training module. "Can't you see that you're embarrassing her?" he said with a smile. He put his arm around her shoulder and inched her away from the group. "That's exactly the point, Captain," Bobby said with a laugh. Monica continued to blush at the attention she was getting from everyone on the bridge, including her dear Jeffrey.

Monica and Captain Wilder went back into his office to set her up with the next training module. Everyone on the bridge wore a huge grin as they watched the two enter the adjacent room. Jen turned back to her station and began to do some thinking of her own. Having seen a bit of the process involved in achieving the next rank above her own, she wondered if she was ready to take the next step as well.

Bobby turned to Jen and noticed she was focused on something in her mind. "A penny for your thoughts," he said. Jen snapped out of her introspective moment to answer. "Bobby, have you ever considered what it would be like to be in command of your own ship?" He wore a look of concern over the question she asked. "To be honest, I'm actually quite happy where I'm at now. I was never too much of one to take an unquestionable leadership role. Serving on this ship with the people whom I consider to be my second family is all I need to make me happy. However, this is only _my_ opinion. It varies from person to person. What matters is what _you_ want to do with your career and your life. Make sure that you don't fool yourself into thinking that one thing is what you want, when in reality, it's completely different. That's the best way to get yourself trapped into a dead end."

Once again, Jen got more than she bargained for when she asked Bobby that simple question. Fortunately, the entire answer was a little bit of everything that she needed to know at the time. Bobby followed up his answer with a question of his own, "So, have you decided what do you want to do with your career?" Jen looked forward into the view of the fleet suspended in formation outside of the ship. She tried to imagine herself on the bridge of one of those ships, in command of her own crew. Her conversation with Cal a few days earlier also popped up into her mind. "_Do what makes you happy,_" she thought to herself before answering. "You know, I need to think about that before I can give you an honest answer." Bobby smiled, "I completely understand."

...

Cal patiently sat as he was working hard to wrap up the first part of his assignment. He continued to pound away at the keyboard so he could transfer Klan's notes into the computer under each entry. Ozma entered the office and surprised Cal, since he was working at a desk that was not his own. Cal quickly stood up and stood at attention upon Ozma's appearance. "Sit down. I'm just here to get something real quick." Cal hesitated before slowly sitting back down in the chair. "You don't mind that I'm using your desk?" "No, Klan told me you'd be in here for the better part of the day. Don't worry about it."

Ozma noticed the bandage still on the side of Cal's head. He had to pry a little bit, just in case. "So, did you think of anything that you wanted to bring to my attention?" Cal smiled while he kept working at the computer console. "No, Sir. Things are going just fine." Ozma thought about his observations of Pixie Team's behavior during their meal that morning. "That's good to hear. You guys are finally starting to look like a team." Cal looked up and smiled back. "Yes, Sir." Ozma left as quickly as he came in. Cal turned his focus back to his work, but was again interrupted by Alto entering the office a few moments later. Cal had to stand at attention once again.

"What are you doing in here? Aren't you supposed to be on patrol with your team?" Alto asked. "No, Sir. I am not medically cleared to fly until probably tomorrow." Alto smiled and nodded his head, "Oh yeah... I heard about that. It's mostly been rumors, though. What happened?" Alto came and sat down in front of the desk to chat for a bit. Cal sat down after him. "I just overworked myself." "That's not what I heard. The rumor is that you and Klan got into a huge disagreement and she PT'ed your ass into the ground, quite literally." Cal faked a laugh to hide the fact that Alto was pretty close to the truth. "No, that's not quite what happened. I did have to do some PT over a disagreement with her, but it was a small part of the whole. It was mostly because I overworked myself."

More damage control to have to do. This lying business is tough to keep up with, even if the end result is for the best. Alto simply sat in his chair nodding to Cal's response. "So, what _are_ you doing in here, then?" "Instead of flying, Klan has me doing some of her desk work. I got no problem with it, as long as it keeps me productive." As Cal continued with his work, Alto noticed the tablet with the first lieutenant's manual displayed on the screen. "Oh, I see... are you training for a promotion?" Cal looked back up and saw what Alto was looking at. "That? No, Klan just told me to read it after I got done with this. She explicitly told me that 'It doesn't mean anything right now'."

Alto smirked at the apparent naivete coming from Cal. "No, I think that means it's time to get you ready for a promotion. She may not say it, but she means it. I know you used to be engaged to be married with your late girlfriend. You should know better than to take a woman's word at face value and just read between the lines." Suddenly, he remembered that that was the very thing about Sheryl that he was tired of having to deal with. Ranka has always been pretty straightforward with him and it's done well to help them act like themselves whenever they are together.

Cal sat back as he had a burning question to ask. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" Alto shook his head, "No, go ahead." "How do _you_ deal with having two women who both want the same thing from you?" Alto was a bit surprised at the question, but he understood that his predicament was pretty well-spoken of in all of the gossip and tabloid lines of communication. "Honestly, I try not to deal with it at all." "Don't you ever think about choosing one of them to be with?" Alto shook his head at the ridiculousness of the question. "My instinct tells me that it would be destructive to do that right now." "I don't know, it just seems kinda wrong to keep leading them on like that if you aren't going to choose to be with one of them. Not trying to be accusing or anything. Just putting that out there as strictly my opinion."

Alto laughed, "I've heard it from a hundred different people. All I can say is 'you have to be in my position to understand'." Cal turned his attention back to his work. "So, what's it like to have two of the biggest celebrities in this part of the galaxy constantly doting on you?" A slight laugh could be detected in his voice as he asked his question. Alto leaned forward to answer. "All I can say is that it's both a blessing and a curse at the same time. They're both very important to me. I just don't know if I could have come this far in my endeavors without them being there for me. I'll continue to enjoy their company for as long as they remain happy."

Alto sat back into his chair to continue the conversation. "About this promotion thing, though... I'd strongly suggest that you stick close to Klan if you plan on going far. She's going to make herself into something important some day. "Quite frankly, I'm surprised that she's paying this kind of attention to you. Normally, she'd be going at blinding speeds, plowing through everyone and everything in her way. If you ask me, she must see something in you that's worth slowing down for."

Cal sat back in his chair to respond. "Geez, when you put it that way, it makes it sound like she's in love with me, or something. I highly doubt that, though. Why else would she go so far out of her way to try to prove that she's always right and put me through a lot of trouble, just because I happen to rub her fur the wrong way sometimes? We constantly butt heads and argue, but..." Cal stopped talking for a moment to wonder why someone would put up with as much as she had. He had somehow managed to make it into her team in the squadron and was still there today despite the rocky relationship they had. She didn't just take it lying down, though.

"I guess you might have a point. I just would like to get things accomplished on my own," Cal said. Alto knew that Cal's attitude was not going to get him very far. "Let me offer you some advice. You can't do it all on your own. You need the people around you to keep you moving forward. As I said earlier, I wouldn't have gotten this far if it wasn't for Ranka and Sheryl. It doesn't necessarily have to be someone who's a love interest, but it certainly can't hurt. If I were you, I'd grab my surfboard and ride the wave that Klan makes for herself." "Yeah, but I don't want to just go along for the ride." "Well, you do have to swim fast on your board so you can catch the wave. After that, it takes skill to stay upright and ahead of the break... otherwise, you'll wipe out."

Alto's analogy did make a lot of sense to Cal. Certainly, he'll have a lot to think about for awhile. Perhaps it would be a good idea to get her to be frank with him on the matter of his career. Alto got back up out of his chair to leave. "I'd better leave you to your work. I don't want to see you getting into trouble for not finishing up, eh?" he said with a wink. Cal tried not to roll his eyes. "Have a nice day, Sir." Once again, Cal was left in silence to complete his work. Although he wanted to think about Alto's advice, he decided that it was a little more important at the time to make sure he was done before Klan returned from her patrol.

...

Cal's presence was sorely being missed out on the front lines. Luca was not able to cover Cal this time on his shift, so Pixie Team had to rely on a fill-in RVF pilot from one of the neighboring ships. Neither the 171EX nor the skills of the pilot flying it had the ability to keep up with the Skull pilots. The group had found another hostile Vajra nest and were engaged in the task of eradicating it. The comm lines were constantly being filled by the RVF pilot screaming for help as he was being overwhelmed by attacking Vajra at every moment. Klan had her hands full just trying to keep him alive.

"Lieutenant, you need to stay well behind us and do your job. I can handle myself just fine without your help. I need the coordinates of that nest, like right now!" she barked over the comm line. "Working on it right now, Commander," he replied. Nene and Will were working hard to fight off several attacking Vajra of their own, but it was not enough to distract them from what was going on around the team as a whole. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that they're purposely targeting the RVF. It's as if they know he's here to help us see better and that he's carrying the incendiaries," Nene said.

The RVF pilot responded to the theory, "Well, if they want a piece of me, they can have it. Okay, I think I can give us an approximation of the nest's loca-" The radio briefly blared static as the other pilots witnessed a shot from a Vajra's beam cannon plow through the front of the RVF's fuselage and melt away the front half of the bird. The rest of the ship listed away for a moment before igniting in a violent explosion. The chemicals contained in the incendiaries added to the intensity of the explosion.

Klan gritted her teeth as she realized that their priorities had to change. "Dammit! That's it, guys. We need to get out of here." Will didn't feel like going anywhere just yet. "Why? We can handle these Vajra." "Because we can't see without an RVF assisting us, and we will not be able to burn out the nest once we find it." Will was frustrated as he realized that Klan was right. The three remaining fighters worked to finish off the rest of the attacking Vajra before more bug reinforcements arrived.

Klan radioed in the coordinates of their encounter with hostile Vajra. Unfortunately, the news of the death of a pilot also had to be included in the report. Ozma had been listening the the radio chatter in his VF, while he waited to taxi out and begin his team's shift. "We'll take care of that, Klan. Just come on back home. You'll have your team back together on your next shift." Although that was something to look forward to for her, she now had to deal with the death of a pilot who was in her team. Even though he was just a temporary fill-in pilot, they're all valuable contributors to the cause. She began to dread the thought of what it would have been like had Cal taken that shot and not some anonymous pilot from another ship.

...

The three remaining fighters of Pixie Team moved their vehicles into storage positions in the Quarter's hangar. Cal stood at attention outside of Ozma's office with the tablet and notebook under his left arm. To all three pilots, seeing their regular wingmate still alive was a breath of fresh air. The feeling seemed to be a bit more profound for Klan, who was ultimately responsible for Cal's, Nene's, and Will's well-being while in combat.

Will quickly exited his VF and ran over to where Cal was standing. He almost jumped on Cal and hugged him. "Will, what the hell are you doing?" Will just let go and started to walk to the locker room as he responded. "It's just good to see you again." Cal was very confused, since he had not heard any details about his substitute having been shot down not too long before then.

Klan climbed out of her Queadluun and approached Cal. Following a customary salute, Cal reported his accomplishments. "Everything's done. I finished your logs and read the entire manual. What do you want me to do with your stuff here?" he said as he shifted the contents under his left arm. "I'll come by your quarters and get them a bit later. I'm glad to see you're still alive and well, Lieutenant." Cal was confused at this outpouring of concern for his well-being by his teammates. "Um, good to see you too, Commander..." Klan turned to walk to the micloning tanks and stopped mid-step. She turned back to Cal to ask something. "You wouldn't happen to be willing to write a notification of death for me, would you?" "Um, what?" "Nevermind... I wouldn't want to put you through that yet." She continued out of the hangar into the next room.

Even though it was a pilot whom had no connections with the Quarter's crew, the stinging pain of death still chewed away at Klan's mind. She needed to write a notification of death and forward it to the pilot's squadron commander. As she slowly typed out the report, thoughts of the past and future danced around in her mind. In the past, she'd lost both Michael and Roramia in combat. However in the future, she was reminded of how fragile the lives of her pilots really are. She was going to have to take extra caution to make sure that no harm came to any of her chicklings in their upcoming combat stints.

On a related note, the one-two punch of a pilot death and mission failure pummeled her mind. She had missed an opportunity to secure another small section of the asteroid belt, and also another opportunity to possibly face off against one of those pesky VF-27s. The ever-increasing use of strategy by the Vajra swarms was making it harder for any VF squadrons to do their jobs. It was the harbinger of things to come. All of the members of the fleet knew that an encounter with organized Galaxy forces was soon to come. The question was "How prepared are they going to be?" This question was also the first and foremost on Captain Wilder's mind.


	20. Preparations

Cathy stood at the head of the small conference table she had set up for her meeting. "I want to thank you all for making it here this early in the morning. We definitely have an important goal to accomplish here, so I wanted to make sure everyone was comfortable for the duration of this meeting." The morning sun shone into the room from the large window to one side. On the table were several small piles of documents, but they were also accompanied by a few boxes of comfort food. Donuts, orange juice, milk, pastries, and several pitchers of coffee were evenly spread out. Only a handful of people occupied the chairs, including Ranka, Sheryl, Brera, Nanase, and Elmo. There were also a few NUNS officers and administrators present.

"I've called you all here to propose the formation of an organization that's dedicated to providing entertainment to the servicemen and servicewomen of the NUNS during wartime and peacetime operations. I would also like for some of its focus to be put onto promoting and supporting racial harmony between Humans and Zentrans," Cathy announced. Some of the people attending raised their eyebrows at the "racial harmony" remark. A few people began to murmur between each other.

Cathy noticed a little air of confusion in the room and continued speaking to clear up any misconceptions. "I fear that our colony is falling into a state of disarray over the recent events that have transpired. I would like to form an alliance of the willing in order to keep the spirits of the soldiers and the citizens in good standing." Many of the attendees who had appeared confused turned back to her with agreeable looks on their faces. The murmurs now were accompanied by nods of agreement to Cathy's proposal.

"I've invited you all here because I think that you will be able to do the most good for this project. As a member of the Office of the Joint Chiefs, it's my duty to facilitate communications between Frontier Government and the NUNS. By proxy, it's also necessary for me to remain privy to the needs of the people, since they are the ones who elect our representative government," she continued. Sheryl was the first to speak up. "I can see why you asked us to come here, but what is it that you would need us for? Frontier government and the NUNS seem capable enough of forming and administrating this project on their own." "Because I feel that this should be a civilian project. The full support of the government can be easily attained by passing a congressional charter, but in order to empower the citizens with the administration of the organization, we should leave the decision-making to you, the people."

Nanase nodded before adding to the conversation, "I agree with Cathy. This project would serve as a bridge between the people and the servicemen and servicewomen of the NUNS. I think we can all relate to the necessity of maintaining a connection between those two groups." Sheryl and Ranka wholly understood what she meant. Even Brera and Elmo could understand, based on their proxy to the three ladies they spend most of their time with.

One of the NUNS officers raised a question to Cathy, "Does this mean that this organization will be fully funded by government resources?" Cathy vehemently shook her head in disagreement. "In order to maintain independence from the government, funds should only be raised publicly. This will keep any governmental corruption from controlling the media that you use to entertain. The last thing we would need is creative control being wrested away from the will of the people." Cathy's answer brightened the faces of the civilians in the room.

Ranka finally entered the conversation, "Would it just be Sheryl and I doing the entertainment, then?" Once again, Cathy shook her head. "The decision would be yours to make. I would highly recommend that you create a network of entertainers to make things easier for you two. You can only be in one place at a time and I'm sure that you both would like to continue your careers without being bound by the operations of this organization. Look at it this way, having other entertainers contribute their time would also serve as a launching platform for their careers. I don't think either of you would mind a little bit of competition, all in the name of creating more culture, right?"

The concept of competition made something click in Sheryl's head. "I like where this is going!" she excitedly said. Brera had remained quiet so far, but he listened to their words and began to form a smile on his face. Nanase noticed his changing expression and had to ask. "What's on your mind, Brera?" He looked up from being called upon and answered, "I can definitely say that we never had much culture to speak of on Galaxy, aside from Miss Sheryl's profound music. Her sound was the only thing we had to shed light on the darkened alleys and corridors of City Galaxy. Although it was significant enough to remind us all of the small shreds of humanity we had left in us, it would have been nice to have more than one person shouldering the load of the culturing of the population." Sheryl put her hand on his shoulder and answered, "I just did what made me happy then. Now, I'd be happy to use my talents to continue to do the same thing here on Aimo."

Elmo knew that he could do a lot to help this project. After all, it was his two biggest clients who showed interest in taking part in it. "If it's networking you need, then look no further!" he exclaimed while holding his cellular phone in the air, "This baby has every number you could possibly need to make your wishes come true." Cathy turned to him with a smile. "I take it that means you're on-board?" Elmo nodded with enthusiasm.

Cathy stepped back and looked around at everyone at the table. "Okay, so this is a project that you all are willing to undertake?" Everyone nodded. "I brought you officers in for input, but you haven't been objecting to anything. Is there anything you'd like to add?" They looked at each other and one of them stood up. "No, Commander Glass. Since this was originally intended to be a civilian project, why did you think it important for us to be here?" "As fellow Joint Chiefs personnel, I thought you might want a hand in this creation. I don't like working alone on things like this, so here's a chance to get in on it while you can."

Cathy took out a blank sheet of paper and handed it to Ranka, who was sitting closest to her on the left. "For those of you who wish to participate in this project, go ahead and put your name and contact information. I will collect this from you when everyone's done and photocopy it for everyone to take home with them." She patiently waited while the sheet was passed around before taking it to get it copied...

"Okay, here you go," she said as she passed the copies around, "I guess one of the first things to do is to give the organization a name. If you guys need any help, let me know. I would definitely like to help out in any way that I can. There's no deadlines, or anything, but just remember that the sooner we can get this thing off of the ground, the sooner we can do some good with it. I don't want to see things fall out of control out there."

Cathy seems to harbor a deep love and respect for the hard work that she and the other colonists have put into building the new colony. She'll be damned if she lets it get out of hand because people can't put their petty differences behind them and work towards a common goal. Keeping the people happy is only one part of the task, though. The inherent corruption found in many people will continuously rear its ugly head in the governmental structure. It's up to the people who care the most about the prosperity of the colony to expose them and remove them from the system. If the watchdogs fall asleep at the wheel, though, the blight will spread until it's nearly impossible to fight. Her plan to create a civilian-controlled entertainment charity is just a way to get more people involved... people whom she loves and trusts to have the same aspirations for the colony as she does.

While Cathy fights for the advancement of the civilian cause, her involvement in both the government and the NUNS gives her three fronts on which to have to battle the demons of corruption. Empowering her most trusted friends to join her daily battle will alleviate a lot of the pressure she is constantly under each day. On the other side of the coin, her connections will allow her to have ears in all places. Such a plethora of reliable information outlets can help her out if she needs to know anything.

...

In the dead of space, Pixie Team carelessly floats about in the middle of their assigned patrol area. Even though Cal had been back in the pilot's seat for a couple of days, he remained relatively quiet while he listened to the occasional chatter between Will and Nene. Klan didn't seem to care that two of her pilots were unnecessarily filling the comm lines with meaningless information. Cal carefully manipulated his vernier thrusters to give Klan a little bump with his RVF. "Hey, watch the paint job!" Klan barked out. "Just making sure you're still with us, Commander."

"I'm doing just fine. You might not care about your cannon-fodder color scheme, but I appreciate mine," Klan remarked. "When do I get to choose my own colors?" Cal asked. "Chicklings don't get their own colors," she simply remarked. "Oh, I see. So... why have you been so quiet?" "Just doing some thinking, that's all. Now, will you quit filling the comm lines with your chatter?" Cal translated her last sentence in his head, "_Leave me alone, I don't feel like talking right now_." "Yes'm," he cordially responded.

The bridge on the Macross Quarter was filled with a little chatter of its own. The bridge crew waited in anticipation of the results of Monica's last training module simulation test. Inside Captain Wilder's office, Monica was engaged in a real-time simulation scenario; testing every facet of her constitution. Commanding a capital ship requires a myriad of skills and abilities in order to be successful, and the NUNS does not take the role lightly at all. Several chewed-up pens were scattered on the desk, along with the test material for the simulation.

Another pen remained firmly clenched between Monica's teeth as she sought to come up with a solution to defeat the scenario she was currently engaged in. She frantically punched the decided action into the computer terminal and awaited the results as the events in the simulation played out on the screen. Upon seeing the aftermath of her decision, she violently exhaled and dropped her head onto the desk between her arms. After a moment of silence, she lifted her head upwards to read the screen once again; as if she didn't believe what she had just seen. As her eyes oscillated back and forth from reading the text on the screen, a smile slowly crept across her face.

Monica gathered up her things and made her way out of the office. When the door opened, she was greeted by a congratulatory committee composed of every bridge crew member on duty at the time. Even Captain Wilder was among them; he stood front and center to give his words of commendation. After several minutes of cheering and congratulating, Lam had a question to ask, "Does this mean she gets the promotion, Captain?" Wilder gently shook his head and answered, "Not quite. She will still have to go through a review board with several officers at NUNS HQ to make it official. However, seeing as how we're currently mid-operations, I plan on giving her a field commission of the new rank." Some of the crew members gasped in exhilaration at the news.

Captain Wilder turned to Monica and stood at attention. "Lieutenant Lang, tomorrow you will report for duty as Brevetted Lieutenant Commander Lang." Everyone stood at attention and saluted their newly-ordained bridge commander, including Captain Wilder. Monica saluted in return. "Yes, Sir!" Leaving her with a smile, Captain Wilder returned to his chair and settled in. The rest of the bridge crew chattered with each other for a few moments before returning to their stations. Upon seeing Monica's success, Jen debated on whether or not she should ask Captain Wilder about her prospects for advancement.

...

Klan sat alone in the mess hall eating her dinner... or at least she appeared to be eating it. She propped her head up with her hand as she stared blankly at some empty table sets across from her. Her food had barely been disturbed and only showed signs of tampering due to simply twirling her fork in one of the dishes. Cal happened to pass by the mess and noticed out of the corner of his eyes that she was sitting alone, deep in her thoughts. He stopped and doubled back to peer around the corner for verification. Confidently, he strolled into the mess and grabbed a chair at Klan's table. He turned it around backwards and sat down, crossing his arms on the seat back and lowering his chin to rest on them.

"You want to talk about it?" Cal casually asked. "Talk about what?" "Whatever it is that's bothering you. What can I do to help?" Klan shook her head before responding, "There you go again, sticking your nose into my business." Cal sat up and began to reel backwards until Klan smiled and continued, "It's okay. I kind of half-expected you to show up. I've tried hard to figure out why you keep prying at me; you seem to think it's possible to 'crack me' to get me to reveal my thoughts. I figured if I came to a place like this to think, you'd find your way in here to ask me about it." Cal hesitantly lowered his head back down until his chin rested on his arms again.

"It looks like I've been intentionally lured here," he said as he noticed her ulterior motive undertones. "Hmm... you could say that. I'm using you to get what I want... shocking, isn't it?" she asked as she placed her hands together under her chin and rested her head on them. Cal shrugged and smiled. "So, what's on your mind?" She looked down at her food and started to prepare a bite on the fork while she answered, "I still can't get that pilot's death out of my head. I know that it comes with the territory, but for some reason, I've started letting it get to me in a way that I didn't think was possible before. I didn't know the guy before he flew with us, but it was as if his death was familiar to me. I think it's because it could have easily been you or Luca."

That mischievous grin began to show up on Cal's face again. "Oh, I know what that means. You've grown an attachment to me, haven't you?" Instead of answering, she put a bite of her dinner into her mouth so she wouldn't have to verbally agree. Cal decided to watch her finish chewing, instead of continuing on with the conversation. "You're gonna make me say it, aren't you??" she asked with a slightly muffled voice. "Say what? I don't know what you're talking about." Cal responded with a laugh.

Klan looked down at her plate again to prepare a bite and sighed. "I guess it will always be up to me to make sure you all come back home alive from each sortie. It is part of the job description, after all." "Hey, wait. You didn't forget about our little deal, did you? We've got each other covered, remember?" Cal asked. Klan thought about his question, but wasn't all too convinced that it was a fool-proof plan. "I know, but we can't ignore the reality of our own mortality. Combat is frenetic; a million things go on at the same time and anything could happen in an instant. It will be up to me to make the correct decisions so I don't put my pilots into any unnecessary danger." Cal nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know, but it certainly can't hurt to have reliable wingmates to keep you out of harm's way, right?" "You got that right," Klan said as she put another bite of food in her mouth.

Cal stood up for a moment to turn his chair around the correct way. After sitting down and leaning back in his chair, he continued the conversation, "You know, I have to admit it... I'm really enjoying flying with you, Will, and Nene. I wouldn't want to have anything happen that disrupts our synergy, either." "Then you understand at least a small part of the way I feel. When you get your own team, you'll start to see why I take it a step further and desire to protect your lives with my own." Cal looked down at the table surface as he thought about her mission statement.

"That concept is not so foreign to me, you know. I seem to recall voluntarily putting myself in harm's way to save the life of a red Queadluun Rhea pilot a couple of weeks ago," he said with a smirk. "It wasn't part of your job description, though. At the risk of sounding morbid and ungrateful, I still have no clue as to why you did that. Don't get me wrong; I am glad you did so, but the reason is still quite an enigma to me," Klan responded. Even Cal couldn't convince himself of his motives from back then. "I thought we clarified this already." "No, you stopped yourself mid-sentence because you said that you didn't want to 'give me the wrong impression'."

Cal stopped talking for a moment because he was trapped in a seemingly inescapable situation. "Uhm..." he stammered as he tried to figure out what to say. Klan patiently waited for him to finish the sentence that he had started to say to her several days ago. Cal finally worked something out to say, "Well, look how everything turned out because of that. I'd say the ends justify the means, regardless of their motives." Klan narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but I know you're hiding something. I _will_ find out what it is sooner than later."

Cal's PDA began to rhythmically chime on his hip, as if to save him from his impending demise. Klan watched him check the screen and put it back in its holster. He sighed as he looked at the table surface before speaking again. "I promise that I'll let you know when I am sure I've found the answer to that question," he said while looking back up at Klan, "I will say that I am glad things worked out the way they did. Before I joined Pixie Team, I used to love just flying. Now, I love flying with the people whom I would entrust my life to. No matter how dangerous it gets out there, I still feel a sense of security with you guys nearby."

She remained silent in her seat as Cal got up to leave. "I've got to get going now. I know you're afraid that something bad might happen to us out there and that you'll somehow make yourself responsible for it, if it does happen," he said as he followed the sentence up with a few superstitious knocks on the table, "I wouldn't worry about it so much. All I can say is that if you start to doubt yourself out there, just look behind you and you'll see that I'll be right there following you to wherever you choose to take us."

Cal quickly glanced into her eyes to assert his sincerity. He waved and left the mess hall with a casual stroll. Klan felt some of the worry being lifted off of her shoulders because of his statements. However, her concentration shifted from one issue to another. Why does Cal seem to fall apart at the seams when he speaks about the motives he had for every time he chose to force his way into her business? His cryptic behavior bores a hole into her conscience.

...

The command staff of the Quarter gathered in Captain Wilder's office for a crew assessment meeting. Samantha Choi, Stephen Ortiz, and Ozma Lee sat across from Wilder, discussing the ship's pressing matters and individual crew development. Each commander held their own tablets, which contained notes on their subordinates.

"I've given Lieutenant Lang her field commission rank. I plan on having her spend some time working with you two during your shifts on the bridge. I need you to get her up to speed on everything she needs to know as quickly as possible. I can't tell you how important it is to have command depth on a ship and we desperately need to grow as many as we can," Captain Wilder said as he looked at Choi and Ortiz. "Sir, what about Lieutenants Margot and Wentz? What are your impressions of them for command potential?" Commander Choi asked. Wilder remained still with his hands folded on the desk as he answered, "I can already tell you that Margot is not interested in promotion. He took a demotion when SMS folded into the NUNS because he was not confident that he would serve for very long after the merge. I've known him for a long time and he's always had the same answer for me when I approach him with that question. Wentz, however... I don't know her all too well, but she seems to be about ready. She hasn't mentioned anything to me. Has she said anything to either of you?" "No, Sir," they simultaneously answered.

Captain Wilder turned to Ozma to get his input on the subject. "Ozma? What about the pilots in your squadron? I want to know how long it's going to be before you let your XO finally get her own squadron." Ozma took a breath and shifted in his chair before answering, "She could easily take her own squadron right now, but I feel that she still has some rough edges to round off. I've had a few incidents coming from her team, due to what I think are personality conflicts." Wilder sat back in his chair to reply, "This incident where one of your pilots was hospitalized concerns me. What did you find out about the cause of that?" Ozma was a bit embarrassed that he could not give the Captain a definitive answer. "Several mistakes were made in the handling of some of the issues and it led to a breakdown of the health and safety protocols. I noted them in detail in my reports, along with the respective written warnings to the people involved." "Has the issue been fixed?" "Yes, Sir. I am confident that my pilots can keep themselves out of trouble now."

Wilder sat back up to ask his next question. "Okay, when Commander Klang is ready for her own squadron, who do you have lined up to take her place?" "My other team leaders are Lieutenants Berstein and Saotome. I've already discussed the issue with Berstein and she tells me that she's only here to fight. She has no desire to take a command rank. I can vouch for her decision. Her family is very important to her and she doesn't want to jeopardize her time with them when she's stationed on Aimo." "...and Saotome?" "He seems eager to move to the next level. I haven't officially discussed it with him yet because I wanted to get Lieutenant Berstein's opinion first. He seems like a good choice, but he's just too young, to be honest." Wilder nodded as he responded, "I understand. You will probably need to farm someone from another ship. I'll get in touch with some of the Zentraedi captains in the fleet to see if they have any possible openings for your XO."

Ozma began to wonder how Klan would take being transferred to an all-Zentraedi ship. He was proud that the pilot who was once his chickling is ready to take command of her very own brood of chicks. However, it may mean that he will also lose Nene at the same time. Things would be very different in the squadron without the diversity those two bring to his squadron.

Wilder moved on down the list of things to discuss. "Okay, we'd need to replace Commander Klang as the leader of her team. Do we have any first lieutenants to take the spot?" "Lieutenant Rora is the only other first lieutenant in the squadron. I can ask her, but she will probably request to transfer with her sister if and when she goes to take her squadron," Ozma replied. "Ah, yeah. You're probably right about that. Okay then, how about second lieutenants? Do you have any that are ready for promotion and to take over a team of their own?" Wilder asked. "Of all of the second lieutenants I have, I've only sort-of started training one for promotion. However, he's a bit of a wildcard right now. I think he's got what it takes to lead a team, but I just want to be sure that he's got his head on straight. He's one of the pilots we talked about just a moment ago in Commander Klang's team." Leaning forward over his desk, Captain Wilder sealed off the issue. "You just said there won't be any more problems from that team, right? Keep moving forward with his training." "Yes, sir," Ozma replied.

"Okay, moving on to our last bit of discussion: combat conditions. We all already know that we have been encountering numerous hostile Vajra nests; and in almost all cases, Galaxy's influence is present. What are your impressions of things to come?" Commander Ortiz didn't take much time to begin responding to Captain Wilder's question. "My instincts tell me that the shit is going to hit the fan very soon." Commanders Choi and Lee nodded without hesitation. Ozma added his two cents, "That's the impression all of my pilots seem to have. We're ready to spring into action at a moment's notice." Wilder just stared blankly at Ozma. It's what he'd expect from the elite pilot squadron housed within his ship's hull. "Everyone should be in a constant state of readiness. I will have no more unnecessary loss of lives because we weren't prepared. Is that clear?" "Yes, Sir," they responded.

...

The outlines of two figures were faintly illuminated by the ambient light coming in through the large glass viewport on the observation deck. A Northampton Class cruiser slowly drifted by the window, partially obscuring the view from within the Quarter. Jen and Cal were comfortably seated on the bench in front of the window, engaged in friendly conversation.

Jen shifted her posture into a formal position. "So, I wanted to ask for your opinion on something." Cal dreaded what he thought she was going to ask him, but remained amicable. "Okay, shoot." "I've been thinking about trying for a promotion. I want to know what you think about me becoming a lieutenant commander," she said. Cal felt he was being put on the spot, but he was also relieved that she wasn't putting any pressure on him to make a decision on whether or not he wants to get into a more personal relationship with her. "Well, I don't think it should be my opinion that really matters here." "I am not going to make a decision based solely on your opinion. I just want to know what you think."

Cal shifted in his seat for a moment to think about his answer. "Hmm... I think you have the intelligence to do it. I'd have to say that you lack assertiveness in a way. Just from my point of view, I don't look at you and think 'Now, _there's_ someone with a commanding presence'. I don't really know of your work habits when you're on duty, since we don't necessarily work closely together. I only hear your voice when launching from the ship, approaching the ship, and when you give us any positional adjustments while we're out there." Jen dejectedly looked at the floor. He realized that his words were a bit harsh and he kept on answering, "That one time that we were chasing that VF-27 was a good example of the necessity of assertiveness. You were quick to catch us leaving our assigned patrol zone and promptly gave correctional orders. At that point, I felt like I was in a bit of trouble!" Cal said with a wink.

Jen perked her head back up when she remembered that instance. Cal continued with his response, "The way I see it is that there are two different personalities you should have. You have your normal, friendly persona that you use in everyday life when you're not on duty. The other is the business-end persona that tells people that you are on a mission to get things done. I think the best soldiers are the ones who can balance the two personalities well. Not everyone can do it. Even I lack the business-end persona, but I'm working on changing that about myself." Jen smiled at the frankness of his words. "Looks like I also suffer from the same condition. I just see the battle-hardened soldiers out there and think to myself 'I could never see myself being such a robot like that'." Cal laughed a bit at her response. "Oh, they're not all that bad. You can't fault them for being overly dedicated to their work. All you have to do is learn from their strengths, and if you're close enough to them personally, teach them a little bit about lightening up when they're off-duty. It's a good trade, I'd say!" Jen could only manage a slight laugh in response.

Through the glass, projectile fire and missile bursts could be seen in the distance. Cal noticed the action going on many kilometers away and hopped up to get a closer look. He placed his hands on the glass to each side of his head and pressed his face as close to it as he could without touching. Jen got up and noticed the look on his face. It was like a little boy looking out of the front window of his house, watching the other neighborhood kids playing. His desire to get out of the ship and into the fight was shown quite obviously on his face; the very look that all pilots get when they _have_ to fly somewhere. The combat in the distance didn't last long, however. As the fighting faded, so did the look on Cal's face.

Cal straightened up and put his hand on her shoulder to continue speaking, "What it really boils down to is that quintessential phrase, 'Do what you love'. I fly because it's what I love to do, and I couldn't be happier. If being in a position of command is what you truly desire in your heart, then by all means, go for it." Jen looked down at the floor as she processed his advice in her mind. "I think I'll do it, then," she said with a confident nod. "There ya go!" Cal exclaimed as he gave her a hug. She was surprised at his enthusiasm over the matter, but she enjoyed the personal contact even more.

Just as she started to hug him back, the PA system opened up to page her. "Lieutenant Wentz, please report to the bridge." Jen clicked her tongue as she and Cal let go of each other. "I guess I'll get out of here. Thanks for your advice. You're a doll," she said as she gently pecked a kiss on his cheek. Cal smiled and placed his hand on his cheek as he watched her leave the room. This was the kind of casual interaction that he enjoyed most about being around her. However, he remembered that he still needed to give her an answer to her question. She's been patiently waiting for him, so it'd be rude to make her wait any longer than he already has.

Minutes later, Jen approached the Captain's chair and stood at attention. "Lieutenant Wentz, reporting as ordered." Commander Ortiz occupied the chair. "At ease, Lieutenant." She relaxed her pose as he continued. "As you know, Lieutenant Lang is now poised to take on her new rank. I just got out of a meeting with the command staff. We decided to farm up some more talent for promotion and your name came up. I need to know what you think about getting started on working towards your advancement." Jen's eyes were lit up and she tried not to laugh at the extreme coincidence of this conversation and the one she just had with Cal. "Sir, as a matter of fact..."

...

Cal decided to retire to his quarters to wind down for the evening. He had another patrol shift to look forward to tomorrow. However, his mind was a bit preoccupied with the aftermath of his conversation with Jen. A lot of the advice had given her was from his personal experience in dealing with Klan. When he first met her, she was one of the "robots" that Jen had mentioned and he was one of the pilots who couldn't take their jobs seriously enough. However, through interaction between the two, they've managed to rub some of their qualities off on the other.

He decided not to give things too much thought, or he'd have trouble sleeping that night. Instead, he laid on his bed and plugged the earbuds from his PDA into his ears and cranked up the volume. There's nothing like some thrash metal to put one's mind at ease. All of his cares and inhibitions melted away as he became lost in the sound of organized chaos from his favorite songs.

A knock sounded from the door. Will, who was watching TV in his bunk, climbed down and answered it. Upon seeing who it was, he stood off to the side at attention. Klan casually strolled into the room without saying a word and stood in front of the bunkbeds. Seeing Cal still lying on his bed with his eyes closed, she loudly cleared her throat to let him know that he should be standing at attention. Each passing second without a response turned her irritation meter up another notch. After a few seconds, she lunged forward and punched him in the arm.

Cal angrily opened his eyes, thinking it was Will messing with him. He noticed Klan standing in front of him with an irritated look on her face and Will in the corner standing at attention. Trying to hop out of bed too fast, he banged his head on the underside of the top bunk again. "Ow! Ffff..." Klan actually laughed at him this time; a drastic change from the irritated demeanor she had just a moment before. Cal was wincing in pain, but glared at her with one eye open as he stood at attention.

She finished laughing and turned to Will, who was still standing in the corner. "I need to speak to him alone. Would you mind waiting outside for a minute?" "Yes'm," Will responded as he walked out of the door. Klan paced for a few moments before turning back to Cal, who was still standing at attention with a salute. She gave him a quick jab to his stomach. "Put your arm down, geez..." Cal exhaled in reaction to the shot in the diaphragm he got from her. He relaxed his posture and started to rub his arm where she hit him before. "For a half-pint, you sure do hit hard. I think you actually hit the bone..." Klan looked back up at him out of the corner of her eyes. "'_Half-pint'_?? Don't be such a baby. You wouldn't be calling me that if I wasn't micloned right now..."

Klan took a seat at the table and invited Cal to sit across from her. "Remember when I gave you the first lieutenant's manual to read and I said it didn't mean anything yet?" Cal was looking at his hand as he opened and closed his fist, checking to see if his motor skills were still functional. "Yeah, why do you ask?" he said as he put his arm back down to rest on the table. "Commander Lee told me that he wants you ready to take your own team very soon in the future," Klan replied. Cal was also surprised at the coincidental conversations he had today. "Does that mean that I'll be getting transferred, or am I going to stay in the squadron?" Klan looked down at the table and responded, "I don't know right now. I was told that they want to give me my own squadron. If that is true, then it means you might be taking over one of the teams due to the reorganization."

Cal was excited to hear the news of Klan's impending promotion. "That's great news! Congratulations!" Klan tried to crack a smile, but she was noticeably distraught. Cal calmed back down when he realized that she didn't share the same excitement that he did. "It _is_ good news, isn't it?" Klan took a moment before answering, "It is, but I am a little sad at the thought of leaving this squadron. I've served with these guys for a few years now. It won't be the same, that's for sure. But these last few weeks have been quite memorable..." Klan stopped as she smiled again. Her words piqued Cal's curiosity. He had a feeling that she was referring to the time frame within which he has been interacting with her. "I have to agree," he chimed.

She continued, "When I met you, I thought you were the most insufferable, petty, and immature pilot in the fleet. You're _still_ all of those things..." she said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, "I can think of few people who are more obstinate and hard-headed as you are. No matter how much punishment I doled out to you, you just kept on coming back for more. I've come to admire your resilience, though. Very rarely does anyone bother to go through so much of my shit like that. I have to respect that you don't mind standing up to me when you know you're right about something. Most people cave in easily, especially if I'm in Meltran form."

Cal winced as he responded, "Ugh, that wasn't as easy as it looked." She laughed at his expression before continuing, "You've helped me regain my ability to look at myself introspectively. I just wanted to thank you for not giving up, that's all". Cal could tell that it really took a lot out of her to say that. "You're very welcome," he said. The two sat silent at the table, looking around at random spots of the room to fill the uncomfortable monotony of the moment.

Cal met his eyes with Klan and then reflexively started talking again, "So, uh... What is the first thing we need to do to move forward with the training?" She snapped back into her original demeanor and answered, "I have a couple of other manuals that you need to read and then there's an assessment test. We'll do the test after you've thoroughly studied all of the reading material." "Sounds like a plan!" Cal said. She got up to leave the room, but Cal stopped her as she opened the door. "Klan?" He saw Will leaning against the wall out in the hallway and changed his mind on what he was going to say. "Um... Does this mean I'm not a chickling anymore?" She feigned laughter as she answered, "Ha ha ha... No. You'll always be a chickling until I say otherwise." Cal laughed a little bit and smiled with a nod of acknowledgment.

Will came back in and hopped back onto his bunk. "What was that about?" Cal got up and laid back down on his bed. "They want to promote me," he casually answered. Will was still speaking from his top bunk, "Really? That's cool! From Klan's face, I thought you two were having some kind of special moment in here..." "Yeah, right..." Cal answered as he rolled over to think about things for awhile. Between the two roommates, only Cal knew of the news that their team could be breaking up very soon. Although it's good news, it still brings a bit of sadness to Cal.

Several soldiers are preparing to train for their upcoming promotions, but the fleet as a whole prepares to move to its next staging area. The officers and pilots all know that it means there will be more fighting for the next day or two. Although Skull Squadron might be going through a major restructuring in the future because of promotions, there will be many other squadrons who will have to undergo restructuring due to the attrition of battle. A far more grim outlook haunts the majority of the pilots in the fleet.


	21. On the Precipice

The following morning brought a sense of excitement to the members of Pixie Team. Once again, they drew watch over the fleet as it moved into the next position within the asteroid belt. The hangar had an atmosphere full of anticipation as work crews rushed to perform routine maintenance on the soon-to-be-launched VFs. Cal had gotten up early to get started on his day and patiently waited for his team's operations window to begin, while he reclined on one of the wings of his RVF to read. The tablet in his hand contained the manuals he needed to read in preparation for his assessment tests.

Cal heard a voice coming from below him near this RVF. "So, _that's_ where you've been hiding." Cal sat up to look down from his perch on the wing. Klan stood with her arms crossed looking up at the pair of legs dangling over the edge before Cal's head popped into view. He hopped down to the ground and gave a friendly salute. "I'm starting to like coming here when I feel like being alone for awhile." Klan took a step back in reaction to his statement. "Oh, I'm sorry. I will leave you alone, then." Cal stopped her from walking away. "No, it's okay. I was just about done anyways. It's about time to go, isn't it? Shouldn't you be in a miclone tank right about now?" "I was on my way when I saw you lying down up there, so I thought I'd haunt you really quick. We were wondering if you were going to have breakfast with us this morning, but now I know where you've been all this time. I take it you're reading your manuals already?" Klan started to walk towards the micloning tanks and Cal followed her for a bit to answer her question. "Yep. I should be done soon. I'll try to finish them up by tomorrow." Klan stopped for a moment before leaving the hangar to go to the micloning tanks. "Sooner or later, we'll make a real pilot out of you yet..." she casually said as she walked through the door.

...

Will's VF grappled with one of the Vajra mecha-drones from the nearby nest, but quickly wounded it with several shots from the small laser cannons on the battroid's head. It tried to flail its way out of harm's reach by retreating, but this move only allowed Will to use his gunpod to finish it off. He quickly moved to intercept more incoming drones by switching to fighter mode and opening fire with a salvo of missiles. "That's three already, Cal! Try and keep up!" Nene answered his taunts before Cal could, "You're gonna have to do better than that to keep up with me, my Lilliputian friend," she said as she simultaneously knocked out three drones with missile kills. "Check out the big brain on Nene with the antique literature reference!" Cal had to remark.

"Did you find that nest yet?" Klan asked. "Yes, Ma'am, I'm sending you the coordinates now." Pixie Team formed up on Klan's wing as she headed deeper into the uncharted areas of the asteroid field. Klan's mind was quite preoccupied with her fears of losing one of her pilots, however. She knew that they were entering the territory of an aggressive nest of Vajra and it was only going to get more difficult from this point on. She looked behind her on the left and saw Nene and Will following closely behind. Turning to look the other way behind her, she saw Cal following in formation, awaiting his next orders. He noticed that she was looking in his direction and gave an enthused thumbs-up from inside of his cockpit to help assuage any of the doubts she had discussed with him the day before. "_If you start to doubt yourself out there, just look behind you and you'll see that I'll be right there following you to wherever you choose to take us_." Cal's words echoed in her mind to help her deal with her hesitations. The sight of his, Nene's, and Will's well-being brought a temporary feeling of relief to her consciousness.

The brief moment of calm ended as the team approached the Vajra nest. As was the usual stratagem, Klan, Nene, and Will drew the defending drones away from the cavern's entrance so Cal could get a clear shot with the incendiary bombs. He flipped the switch on his flightstick and hit one of the buttons on top to fire the incendiaries. The bombs approached the mouth of the cavern, but gunpod fire met them before they reached their targets. As they harmlessly detonated outside of the cave, two VF-27's and several Ghost V-9's came out of the cavern and opened fire on Cal.

Caught completely off-guard, Cal did his best to dodge the barrage of projectile fire that was piercing the space all around him. "It's an ambush! I'm in deep shit right now!" Cal yelled out over the radio. Using his finely-tuned piloting skills, he did what he could to weave through the barrage of gunpod fire. Unfortunately, the combined precision firing of the 27s and V-9s severely damaged the super pack parts on Cal's RVF as his radar warned him of several incoming missiles. The fold-magnetic chaff he used caused most of the missiles to impact on the false targets, but he still had a few to get rid of. Weighed down by the now-useless super pack, Cal jettisoned the parts and they served as false targets for the remaining missiles to impact upon. He wasn't out of the woods just yet, though. He was being pursued by two 27's and a handful of V-9 drones.

Klan's red Queadluun dropped in behind Cal as he tried desperately to escape. She aggressively opened fire on the pursuing enemy targets, causing them to scatter out of their formation. "Klan! Handle those 27's for me. I can take the Ghosts!" "Are you nuts?? You lost your super pack. There's no way you'll be able to outmaneuver them!" Cal began to punch up instructions on his control panel to invoke an ECM procedure that Luca had taught him. "Don't worry about me. I learned this little trick from Luca." As soon as he hit the "execute" command, the Ghost fighters began to behave erratically. Their accuracy fell way below the standards of even the greenest of human pilots of the NUNS. Cal performed a tight 180 and knocked down all of the disoriented V-9 drones with a few well-placed salvos of gunpod fire. "The mighty Lieutenant Wagner and his amazing RVF-25. What other kinds of tricks does he have in that bag of his?" Klan joked as she aggressively negotiated with the two 27's. It looks like this little ambush was going to turn in their favor, after all.

Nene desperately tried to finish off a very hard-to-hit fighter-drone. Her focused efforts temporarily blinded her from the rest of the enemy drones in the area. By the time she noticed one closing in on her, she was unable to defend herself properly. Will came out of nowhere to deliver a punch to the incoming drone with his battroid's fist. The drone lifelessly drifted away with a good chunk of its body missing, due to the powerful melee strike from Will's VF. The glow on his pin-point barrier-reinforced fist began to wane as he turned to make sure Nene was still okay. "I've got your back, my Brobdingnagian friend." Nene was flabbergasted by Will's rebuttal to her earlier literary reference. "What??" she hypothetically asked with a chuckle. Cal's laughter could be heard laughing over the comm lines. "Ohhh, ha ha ha ha... Will, even you can surprise me sometimes," he said.

Klan was locked in combat with the two 27s, but she found the exchange between her pilots quite amusing. A smile crept across her face as she continued to battle her opponents with zeal. Her combat had taken her far away from the position of the nest that they were supposed to be destroying. Fortunately for this turn of events, it allowed her unfettered free range to fight the 27s without any pesky Vajra drones interrupting them.

Cal swooped into her area with a spread of gunpod fire directed at one of the 27s. In retaliation, his target changed its attention to him and entered pursuit as he tried to leave the area unnoticed. Without a super pack to assist his speed and maneuvering, he was a very easy target to engage for the pilot of the 27. Cal desperately tried to lose his pursuer through the use of combinations of the flashbangs and fold-magnetic chaff. However, The 27 fought its way through the debilitating effects of the countermeasures and closed in on Cal's RVF. It switched to battroid form and began charging its gunpod for a shot from its heavy beam cannon. Cal saw the incoming attack in his mirrors and desperately tried to make himself a hard target to hit. He quickly switched to GERWALK to change his thrust vector 90 degrees upwards. The quick decision may have saved his life as he partially dodged the white-hot energy of the charged projectile. However, the legs on his GERWALK did not clear the edges of the projectile and his engines were destroyed in the aftermath. Without a super pack or his main engines, Cal's RVF floated helplessly through space as he was carried only by the remaining inertia.

Klan was having no difficulty gaining the upper hand on her target. Each movement made by the pilot of the 27 was matched by her textbook-like maneuvers. The 27's pilot was getting desperate with each failed escape attempt. Klan was finally on her way to scoring her first kill of a 27. The aspect tracking reticule on her viewscreen locked onto its target as she furiously pursued it at high speed. "I've got you now..." she said to herself as she prepared to fire. Her radio crackled with Cal's desperate call for help. "My engines have been completely destroyed and I'm disabled! I'm a sitting duck out here!" Klan could see his crippled ship out of the corner of her eye. The legs of his GERWALK had been melted off, leaving only a couple of nubs extending from the joint section. The VF-27 that had been pursuing him was charging up another heavy beam cannon shot to finish off its target.

Time seemed to freeze as Klan dove deep into her subconscious to override her warrior-like desires for the kill in front of her and to do what she really knew was the right thing. The most recent turn of events was another item on the list of reasons she had started to enjoy flying with her new team. The friendly banter between them, the way they always seemed to be there for each other when they needed help the most, and their shared desires to complete their mission parameters. As she saw Cal's incapacitated RVF, her recent memories of interactions with him came to mind. Their reconciliations with each other, their shared thoughts, and even the uninvited advice that he had no inhibitions of giving to her out his concerns for her well-being. An image of the RVF-171EX, whose destruction she had witnessed several days earlier, came into her mind. That image was then replaced with her recent memory of Cal giving her a thumbs-up from his RVF-25 behind her earlier.

"No," she told herself, as time returned back to normal and she changed her Queadluun's trajectory. She chose to forego the elusive 27 kill and save her beloved wingmate. In an instant, she had positioned herself in front of Cal's RVF as the 27 fired its heavy beam cannon. Cal witnessed her red Queadluun moving in front of him and realized that Klan was attempting to take the hit for him. "No, Klan!" he yelled in futility as he hit the eject button in his cockpit. The EX-gear instantly enveloped his body with its protective armor as the canopy burst away to give him room for the escape.

The Queadluun's arms and legs came together to form a rudimentary shield from the incoming attack. Despite the reinforcement of its defenses, the overwhelming energy in the particle beam melted away the thick armor surrounding the pilot and the suit's vital systems. The thicker armor on the arms deflected a lot of the damage away from the cockpit, but the propellant tanks and ammunition packs detonated upon destruction, causing a very large explosion. The profile of Klan's Queadluun gave protection to Cal as he tried to escape using his EX-gear's propulsion system. His RVF was not as lucky, though. Hit by the residual energy from the beam after passing through Klan's Queadluun, it was completely destroyed in the aftermath.

The smoke and flaming cinders of wreckage began to clear to reveal whatever may have remained. Cal's heart had already sunk into his bowels as he witnessed his favorite pilot and commanding officer sacrifice herself to save his life. He floated in space in disbelief as he waited for some kind of miracle to come along and show him that she was still alright. Amazingly, the "chickling" hat, which Cal had been using as a bit of a memento decoration in his cockpit, had survived the destruction of his ship. It floated by in front of him mostly intact, but the feathery wings had been burned off. The withered wings seemed to represent his destroyed desire to fly, now that he had lost the one person who he regarded as his motivation to better himself as a pilot. His entire world now consisted of himself and the hat, which he coddled in his arms with teary eyes.

The visibility in the local space began to return to normal and Cal saw the cloudy image of a large chunk of wreckage floating away from Klan's last known position. He shook his head to clear up his vision and noticed the figure of her body still encircled by the protective cage that makes up the core of the Queadluun's cockpit. "Klan!" he yelled as he fired the boosters on his EX-gear and flew towards her. Every ounce of his will became dedicated to hoping that she was still alive. Her flightsuit had several burn marks on it and her body was positioned awkwardly, indicating that it had been violently shaken and concussed by the explosions.

Cal flew up to her body and began beating on the cracked visor of her helmet, hoping that she could still hear him. "Klan! You'd better not be dead! Are you going to let these assholes beat you?! Wake up, dammit!" Miraculously, his words seemed to reach her as she struggled to open her eyes amidst the pain she was suffering from her injuries. She grunted as she tried to utter a single word, "Cal..." A smile followed that word as she focused her gaze on him. "Yeah, it's me! Stay with me, girl. You're gonna get out of this little scrape alive, you hear me?! I'll make sure of it!" Cal said with confidence.

As if to defy his very words, the 27 that had shot them both down emerged through the remaining smoke and wreckage. Klan's facial expression told Cal of the impending danger approaching him from behind. He turned around to see the 27 closing in on their position and armed the rifle that was attached to his EX-gear. "Oh, no you don't!" He boosted towards the 27, firing his peashooter in a futile effort to defend Klan. She couldn't believe that Cal was crazy enough to think that he could make a single dent with that tiny rifle. What in the world would possess him to do such a thing??

The battroid was unfazed by his small-arms fire and raised its gunpod to finish them both with a single shot. Suddenly, projectile fire from above knocked the gunpod out of the 27's hands, causing it to float away and explode. Nene and Will entered the scene to protect their fallen wingmates. "Don't die, Klan!" Nene exclaimed as she continued to fire upon the evading 27. Realizing it was now outmatched without its primary weapon, the 27 transformed to fighter mode and flew away. No doubt to rejoin its partner, who had bugged out of the fight earlier.

Now left in the silence of empty space, the members of Pixie Team rushed to make decisions on what to do to save their injured commanding officer. Will stood guard in his VF's battroid form, while Nene ejected herself from the cockpit of her Queadluun to tend to her sister. Nene gently grappled her sister's body at various places, attempting to feel out injuries through her pressure suit. Her face was not very assuring of Klan's prospects for survival as she reared upwards and opened a channel to the Quarter. "This is Lieutenant Rora of Pixie Team. We have lost two of our fighters in combat. Both pilots are still alive, but Commander Klang is critically injured and needs medical attention immediately! Request emergency medical evac! I also need a strike on a hostile Vajra nest in sector 7883 Epsilon!" Jen Wentz's voice returned a prompt response, "Roger that, Lieutenant. I have a team on the way to extract your party and a strike team will be en route shortly." Cal replied to Jen's message, "Jen, I'm okay. Thanks for the quick response. You'll make a fine officer some day." Jen's face turned slightly red in reaction to his compliments, but she smiled because she knew he was probably right.

Cal's attention turned back towards Klan as his new job was to make sure that she did not slip away from them. "Klan, you scared the shit out of me. Why would you do such a thing?!" Cal asked with a teary smile. Klan closed her eyes and exhaled slightly before answering, "I told you I'd do whatever it takes to make sure you all made it back alive. I never said anything about my own well-being." Cal feigned anger over her words, "Keeping you alive is _my_ job, dammit!" He cleared his expression and replaced it with a playful smile. Klan tried to smile in response, despite still being in pain. Nene and Will watched their exchange and looked at each other. Even though she could not physically see Will in his battroid, Nene knew he was smiling at her and she smiled in return.

Will's sensors picked up a couple of distorted signatures closing in on their position from the direction of the Vajra nest. Without Cal's RVF to enhance their sensor capabilities, he had to assume it was hostile incoming. "Nene!" he exclaimed. She knew what he was trying to say and re-entered her Queadluun. The two pilots blasted off towards the signatures to defend Cal and Klan as they waited for the medical evac. After they had been left alone, Klan opened her eyes again and looked at Cal. "I can't move a thing. I'd hug you if I could... I'm just glad you're okay," she remarked with a struggling smile. He just laughed in relief and smiled back.

Will and Nene had met a pair of patrolling Vajra drones. They had no problems dispatching the threat, in order to protect their disabled teammates. Ozma opened up the comm lines as he zoomed by them, "Nene. Garrett. Follow us towards that nest. The medevac team has arrived and is already tending to Klan." "Yes, Sir!" they answered as they moved into formation.

...

The pilots of the strike team returned to the medevac team's position just in time to escort them back to the ship. With a heavy heart, Nene looked towards the shuttlecraft used to carry Klan. Will could hear her sigh over the comm lines. He maneuvered his VF closer to her Queadluun and put his battroid's hand on the shoulder of her power armor. She manipulated her Queadluun's hand onto his battroid's hand in response.

Inside of the medical shuttle, Kanaria realized that she was completely out of her league. She gave a very disconcerting look at Cal, who was standing off to the side as he spectated. The shuttle landed on the flight deck of the Quarter, along with its escort fighters. Ozma was quick to hop out of his VF to find out what was going on. Kanaria met him outside of the shuttle to give her report. "Ozma, this... I can't do anything for her. Not only am I too small, but this goes way beyond my medical expertise. She's got numerous internal hemorrhages and needs surgery to repair them." "Do you think it's safe to miclone her?" Ozma asked. Kanaria shook her head and responded, "It would probably kill her if we did it with that much internal injury. The micloning process would just exacerbate the problem, since it deconstructs and reconstructs her body in its current state. The internal anatomy changes during the micloning process, in order to place vital organs into better-protected areas while in macro form. There's no telling what kind of additional damage would be done if we did. All I can do is patch up some of her wounds and give her some morphine for the pain."

Ozma nodded and looked downwards to think for a moment. Cal had already thought about the correct course of action. "Commander, we need to get her onto a Zentraedi medical ship. I know there's one in the fleet. Can I make the call?" Ozma nodded to give him permission. Cal opened up a channel to hail the medical frigate. Nene helplessly watched on as Will stood beside her on the flight deck. From his diminutive vantage point, he could still see the worry and distraught on her face. He used his EX-gear to fly up towards her face and show her that he was sympathetic to her feelings. With a teary disposition, she smiled at his sympathy and gently embraced him towards her body with both of her hands. Despite their difference in physical size, the two pilots had found in each other the ability to see eye-to-eye when it came to their feelings.

Cal turned back to Ozma to report his success. "The frigate is on its way here and can meet the shuttle halfway to save time." Ozma nodded in response, but Cal wanted to make another request. He stood at attention and saluted as he made his appeal. "Sir, permission to escort the shuttlecraft to the medical frigate!" Ozma looked at Cal in disbelief of his question. "Denied. I need you here. Besides, you don't have a bird," he said as he turned away to walk back to the deck elevator. Cal leaped forward and pulled Ozma's shoulder to turn him around again. "Sir! Please let me do this. It's important to me that she remains safe from harm." He stood in front of Ozma, still saluting. Ozma stared him down to gauge Cal's true feelings on the matter. Cal's eyes seemed to quiver from the intensity of his emotions as he fought to hold back the tears in front of his squadron commander.

Immediately, Ozma understood the importance of the matter to Cal. Truly, Cal was willing to do what it takes to protect that which is important to him. To Ozma, it was amazing to see that the two pilots, who have given him so much grief as of late, could reconcile their differences with each other and become good friends. He thought of how he'd feel if he were in the same position as Cal and either Cathy or Ranka had been seriously injured. He nodded with a look of assertion on his face. "I can tell by that look on your face that you know what it's like to put the well-being of others in front of your own, just for the sake of protecting them. If I still said 'no', you'd figure out a way to disobey my orders, wouldn't you?" Cal didn't respond because he wasn't sure if he was being tested by Ozma.

He remained at attention while Ozma smiled and turned towards one of his pilots, who was still in his VF's cockpit with the canopy open. "Pullman! Give this man your bird. He has a mission to perform!" The pilot was surprised at the intrusion of his precious VF, but complied with the orders from his commanding officer. "Y-yes, Sir!" he said as he hopped out of the cockpit and onto the flight deck. Ozma turned back to Cal, who had realized that his request was being approved and wore an apprehensive smile on his face. "You have 24 hours. Good luck, pilot," Ozma said with a smirk and a salute. "Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!" Cal said, returning the salute.

Cal ran over to the now-vacant VF-25 and began to climb into the cockpit. He turned towards Nene, who was holding out her hand for Will to stand on. He looked at them both, smiled at their togetherness, and nodded to tell them that he would take care of Klan. They nodded in return and watched as he acclimated himself to the foreign cockpit of another pilot's bird. After a few seconds, the canopy lowered and the engines fired up. The remaining pilots and crew of the Quarter remained on the flight deck as they witnessed the shuttlecraft and its escorting VF leave the ship towards an uncertain conclusion. They all shared heavy hearts, in hopes that their comrade would somehow pull out of this alive.

...

On the Zentraedi medical frigate, Cal felt completely out of place amongst the many giants who rushed to do their jobs. He remained close to the one Zentran who was familiar to him; assuring her of her survival at every moment's opportunity. The morphine made it hard for Klan to stay focused on remaining conscious. The Zentran doctors and nurses rushed the gurney towards the operating rooms with gusto. Their boisterous voices echoed all around Cal as they discussed Klan's condition with each other, along with their plans to save her from bleeding to death internally. However, Cal's voice was the only one she could hear. "We're almost there, Klan. These doctors will do whatever it takes to make sure you don't die; I can assure you that."

She struggled to locate Cal's position on the gurney as she looked around for the source of his voice. She turned her head to the side and saw him standing on her pillow while holding on to the gurney's railing to keep from falling off. The hallways of the Zentraedi ship sped by in a blur; Klan could not focus on anything but Cal, since he was physically close to her. She mumbled something unintelligible, but Cal shook his head in response. "Stop trying to talk, you can tell me when you get out of the operating room, okay?"

One of the Zentran doctors spoke to Cal as they approached the doors to the O.R. "Okay, little guy, you need to hop off so we can take care of your friend here." Cal nodded to him and stepped back a bit in preparation to take off using his EX-gear. Klan mumbled something again as she began to lose her visual focus on Cal. He turned back to her and left her with his final words, "Don't you die in there, Klan. I may not outrank you, but that's still an order, you got it?"

The wings to his EX-gear unfolded and the engines fired with a "pop!" His feet left the surface of the gurney and he floated away from Klan. As they entered the doors of the operating room, Klan had somehow gained the strength to lift her arm and reach out for Cal as he began to fall out of focus. Her hand grasped at the air in futility. Despite the loss of clarity of her vision, she could still see the worried expression of his face and moved her hand towards her head to salute his orders. He saluted in return as he began to fight back the tears caused by her powerful gesture. "That has to be the toughest woman I've ever met," he said to himself as he watched the doors swing open and shut from their hinges.

…

Captain Wilder had made his way down from the command deck and into Ozma's office in the hangar. He, Ozma, Kanaria, Nene, and Will all stood around the desk as they reported the string of recent events to him. Wilder had received reports of numerous pilot casualties in the fleet during that day's operations, due to several other planned ambushes by Galaxy forces. As he read Kanaria's medical reports on the condition of Klan, he slammed the tablet down on Ozma's desk and gritted his teeth. Everyone in the room jumped at the abrupt display of anger from their usually-calm captain. "Sir?" Ozma asked. Wilder turned around and began to walk out of the office. "Ozma, I need you to come with me," he said. Ozma and Kanaria looked at each other briefly before he followed Wilder out of the office. The remaining pilots in the room didn't know what to say to each other. They were befuddled with confusion over the matter and simply chose to leave the room without even a mere utterance.

Once again, the command staff of the Quarter had convened in Captain Wilder's office to discuss matters further. Wilder had broken radio silence with Aimo to contact his superiors at NUNS HQ. After delivering his report, Fleet Admiral Perry opened up communications with him to give a response. "Captain Wilder, your disregard for the imperative radio silence with us is unorthodox. However, given your reasons, I can see how you would justify such an action. I've gone over your report and I am unsure of your suggested actions based on the most recent turn of events." Wilder looked at his command staff and they all nodded to acknowledge that they were on his side. He turned back to the monitor and gave his rebuttal. "With all due respect, Sir, I believe that you don't understand the magnitude of the situation out here. We've sustained considerable pilot casualties because of more well-coordinated ambushes on our unsuspecting VF squadrons. Obviously, these attacks were designed to inflict as much attrition as possible to our forces. If you ask me, they're softening us up for an attack." Wilder's command staff stood behind him nodding to Perry.

He took Captain Wilder's words into deep consideration for a moment as he prepared his response. "I cannot deny that you and your crew are the best we have out there. If you and your command staff are united on this, then I suppose I can't deny you your opinions. I will discuss this with the defense council immediately. Stand by for our response." The video feed blanked out as the comm line was terminated. Wilder turned back to his command staff and issued his orders. "We're terminating the prospecting phase of the operation. We need to turn our focus towards capturing or destroying City Galaxy and its forces. Issue the order to all ships in the fleet: 'Hold position and deploy to exercise maximum defensive effectiveness'."

Commander Choi felt it would be best to constructively challenge Wilder's abrupt and unauthorized orders. "Sir, we don't have permission to do that just yet. Are you sure that it will be wise to overstep your bounds?" Wilder sternly glared into her eyes. "I stand here confident that all of the fleet's captains will agree with us. Even if NUNS HQ denies our request, we know that what we are doing is the right thing." Ozma chimed in with a bit of playfulness, "You love to play 'pirates', don't you?" Wilder smiled at Ozma and the two nodded at each other as they reminisced about their past escapades as unaffiliated pirates several months ago. Monica stood by and watched as the seasoned commanders executed their powerplay with NUNS command. Ever the absorbent sponge, she was quickly learning the ways of a ship commander as she witnessed their every move.

A feeling of sadness and fading hope overcame the crew of the Quarter, as they learned of Klan's condition. Their beloved Skull Squadron was down two pilots and the orders of 'seek and destroy' issued by Captain Wilder told them of the impending encounter with a force of unknown size and power. All they could do was steel their determination to survive and fight on, despite the looming threat of an encounter.

...

Even though the fleet had not yet begun to fight its battle, the battle over Klan's well-being was coming to a close. Cal had fashioned a chair out of several table ornaments around him and he sat leaning forward with his hands clasped in front of his face. Worry dominated the demeanor on his face. He watched Klan sleeping on her hospital bed, while the EKG monitor rang into Cal's thoughts with every beep. Her pulse was erratic and the blood pressure readings rose and fell, still unable to stabilize.

The doctor entered the room, spooking Cal out of his focused state. He stood up and walked to the edge of the table as the doctor stopped at the side of her bed. He acknowledged Cal's presence with a nod and checked her vital signs. He scribbled some notes on her medical chart and hung it back onto the foot of the bed. Noticing Cal's look of anticipation for any news, he put his hands into his medical coat and smiled. "It looks like she's gonna make it," he said. Cal slightly smiled, but he wanted to know more. "That's it?" he asked. The doctor laughed at his prying. "Is she your girlfriend or something?" Cal's heart jumped at the question and he frowned. "No, she's my commanding officer, but she's just as important to me. Tell me more. What's going on with her?"

The doctor came and sat down in the enormous chair next to the table that Cal was standing on. He put on a look of frankness as he crossed one of his legs over the other and rested his folded hands on it. "She's lucky to be alive. She must have some good genes in her because her body took a beating and she's still with us. In fact, her internal injuries are healing very fast... much faster than a human's would if it were in the same condition. I'll bet dollars to dimes that she's got some commander-class Zentrans in her lineage. Those are some tough and durable people, I gotta tell ya. I envy that about Zentrans. Sometimes I wish I was Zentraedi," he said. Cal looked at him with confusion over his words. "You _wish_ you were Zentraedi?" he asked. The doctor turned his head and pointed at his ears. They were round, like a Human's.

"You're... You're _Human_??" he asked. The doctor smiled and nodded. Cal was very surprised to meet a Human being who lived with Zentrans in their normal size. The doctor proceeded to explain his story to Cal. "When I graduated medical school, I grew an interest in the Zentraedi culture. I wanted to live amongst them and learn of the differences between theirs and our cultures. Since I was a certified doctor, I applied to be stationed here to use my skills to help out around here. Of course, in order to fit in here, I had to take a few extra classes on the minor differences of Zentraedi anatomy and then I had to undergo the macronization process."

Cal looked down to think about his fear of macronizing. Even though his subconscious feared the concept of genetic reconstruction by a machine, he knew that there was little to fear of it in reality. However, the fact that Klan's body undergoes a complete change when she miclones was enough to keep the fires of uncertainty burning within him. "Did you have to put a lot of consideration into the decision to macronize?" he asked. The doctor laughed and responded, "Ha ha, yes... It _is_ quite a paradigm shift in your consciousness. You grow up all of your life understanding that you would generally stay the same as you are, and not having to worry about choosing to make such a change to yourself. I had to put in a lot of consideration before convincing myself that it was the best choice for my desires and my career. Once it happened, though, all that worry and apprehension went away and I was able to live my life normally... except as a giant."

The two continued their conversation for a bit longer before the doctor was called away to another patient's room. He left Cal with a lot to think about; being able to fulfill his dream of piloting a Queadluun didn't seem too far out of reach, all of a sudden. His focus quickly changed to the importance of the present, as he took a seat and tried to make himself comfortable enough to possibly fall asleep. The doctor's positive prognosis did lift some of the worry off of his mind, but he wasn't going to be completely convinced until he saw a conscious Klan again.

...

Thanks to the accurate foresight of Captain Wilder, the fleet had already positioned itself in preparation for its first offensive move against the ghost-like forces of Macross Galaxy. After receiving the official nod from NUNS command, Captain Wilder sat alone in his office while discussing the fleet's strategy with the other ship captains over his viewscreen. The rest of the ship had heard of the success of Klan's surgery, but they waited for confirmation that she was going to fully recover.

Will had finally gotten to sleep after having spent a lot of time consoling Nene. Unfortunately, he was awoken by a knocking at the door to his quarters. He groggily opened the door and found Nene standing in the hallway, looking for his company once more. "I can't sleep," she told him with a look of sadness on her face. Will strained to keep his eyes open, despite being bombarded by the light from the hall. He took a step to the side to invite her in. He led her to Cal's bunk where he told her to lie down. Pulling up one of the chairs to the bedside, he sat down and began to rub her back and shoulders to help her calm down so she could sleep.

Nene's worries melted away as she focused on the comforting feeling coming through Will's hands on her back. She thought about how he was willing to spend some of his valuable sleeping time to help her feel better, but realized that she was imposing on him a bit in order to make herself feel better. After lying there for awhile, she reached around her body with her hand and grabbed Will's hand to stop him from rubbing her back anymore. "You don't have to do this," she whispered. Will smiled and responded, "It's okay. I just don't want to see you hurting like that." Nene thought about his response for a moment before she tugged at his hand to tell him to lie down next to her.

Will swallowed the lump in his throat as he realized that he was being invited onto the bed. He cautiously positioned himself on the small bunk so as not to intrude into her personal space too much. Nene noticed his apprehensiveness and rolled over to put her arms around him. She nestled her face into his neck and pulled his body closer to let him know that it was okay to get a little more personal. Will slowly placed his arm around her and made himself comfortable. She gave him a gentle kiss on the neck before settling in to close her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. Will responded by rubbing her back once again until she finally fell asleep.

...

Several kilometers away on the Zentraedi medical frigate, Cal had finally fallen asleep on the rudimentary bed he constructed. Unfortunately there was nary a blanket for someone his size anywhere in sight. He seemed to be quite uncomfortable as he slept, both from his concerns for Klan and from the harshness of the "bed" he was lying on.

While he slept, Klan had begun to regain her consciousness. She fought to open her eyes as they adjusted to the dim lights in the room. She waited for several moments as everything began to come into view. At first, she could not remember where she was and her mind raced through its most recent memories to come up with an explanation for her current state. She looked at the hypodermic needle inserted under her skin and felt the leads from the EKG monitor on her body. A sudden feeling of loneliness crept over her as she sought to come up with the answers as quickly as possible. She frantically started to search around the room with her eyes until she turned her head and saw Cal asleep on the table next to her bed.

The sight of him suddenly reminded her of what had happened. "_Don't you die in there, Klan. I may not outrank you, but that's still an order, you got it?_" Her memory repeated the last words she could remember in her mind. The image of him fading out of her field of vision had haunted her subconscious for some time while she was unconscious. She realized that he had been watching over her while she slept and rolled onto her side to get comfortable in her bed.

She noticed Cal had been curled up into a fetal position for warmth while he slept. His sculpture-like tenseness indicated that his body was trying desperately to stay at a nominal internal temperature. She clicked her tongue at his stubbornness in not finding something to keep himself warm while he slept. She looked around for something to use as a cover for him, but could not find anything to use. There was only one thing she could think of that could help him without waking him from his sleep.

During his sleep, Cal's subconscious noted the sudden appearance of a pleasant fragrance permeating his dreams. In an effort to discover the source of the smell, his mind sought to awaken his body. He opened his eyes after a couple of hours to find that he was shrouded by a tuft of Klan's long, blue hair. Her scent had pierced into his dreams, but he also realized that only she would do such a thing for him. Even though he could see that she was asleep, he realized that she had awoken recently. Her sideways posture indicated that she was probably watching _him_ sleep for some time until she fell back to sleep herself. Cal focused his gaze on the EKG monitor, which displayed a steady, nominal heart rate and blood pressure. It was more good news to help ease his worried mind.

As he sat up and rubbed his eyes, he suddenly had an epiphany. "_Now_, I know why... That's gotta be the reason," he mumbled to himself with a smile. He climbed back into his chair and leaned forward to watch Klan sleep. He now knew that she was going to be okay and it was only a matter of time before he was able to talk to her again. He reached over and grabbed the chickling hat that he brought with him onto the ship. He gazed intently upon the charred remains of the wings and began to think of how he was going to replace them. His conscience reminded him that he still had a lot of reasons to keep flying and he pictured the hat with wings once again. A satisfied smile began to creep across his face as he thought about what it is that he planned to do in the near future with this situation.


	22. The Truth About Things

The fleet slowly crept along the path of the Kihnes Asteroid Belt, in search of the elusive Galaxy fleet. Captain Wilder sat in his chair on the bridge, watching over the fleet with vigilance. Monica was standing next to him to work with him during his shift. However, she had a question burning in her mind as she also watched the ships moving along the asteroid field. "Captain, I was wondering..." Wilder looked up at her as she continued asking her question. "When is it a good time to act upon your own volition, despite being ordered to do something else?" Wilder was a bit stunned at the frankness of her question, but he understood that she may be a little confused about his recent rogue decisions.

"Sometimes when you're on the battlefield, you see things that your superiors might not see. One thing that I love about being a Captain is that I am still privy to all that goes on in and around my ship. Once you reach the rank of admiral, command seldom allows you the privilege of working on the front lines. It's almost as if you're put into a home for the retired. Your every move is constantly tracked and you can't get out on your own to do what _you_ want. I mean this with the utmost respect for my superiors, but sometimes they are too inundated with their own desk jockey work to keep an eye on the reality of the battlefield," he replied. Even though Monica understood his words, the concept still seemed somewhat foreign to her.

Captain Wilder took a moment to think of a way to get her to understand better. "You know how sometimes when you are monitoring your radar station, the information comes to you much faster than it does to me. Even though you relay that information to me, you must first process it in your mind to deliver it in a concise sound bite for the sake of efficiency." Monica nodded to indicate she was still following his words and he continued, "You already know the correct course of action, but you tell me anyways and wait for your orders. If you could, you'd issue the orders yourself. Your perspective is far clearer than mine could ever be, when it comes to your designated position. The same applies for ship captains and squadron leaders. A good leader listens to his subordinates and weighs their opinions against his or her own. They are then forced to act upon the information available to them, despite what their higher-ups may say. That same information takes time to disseminate up the ranks and sometimes, it may be too late to be able to afford to wait."

Monica began to understand the concept a little better. "So, sometimes you have to disobey orders?" Wilder shook his head and answered, "I wouldn't put it as bluntly as that, but there will be some times where you can't afford to wait for deliberation. Being a ship captain is about having quick and decisive judgment. Quick and concise orders are the easiest ones to follow when you're under extreme time constraints. I would not recommend going against orders, though. At your level of experience right now, you'll be wrong 9 out of 10 times. Only when you absolutely _know_ that you're right, would I suggest doing it."

Monica nodded and slightly laughed at the notion of her not having much experience. "You're right about that. I was just curious after watching the exchange you had with Fleet Admiral Perry. You gotta do what you gotta do, huh?" Captain Wilder just nodded and turned his gaze back to the fleet in front of his ship. "As grim as it sounds, war is a lot about inflicting as much attrition on your enemy as possible, while taking as little attrition in return. In the game of chess, you are sometimes forced to put your pieces into the role of sacrifice in order to draw out your opponent, or to protect vital pieces from capture. You must weigh out the value of your sacrificial pieces and make the decision to give them up if you know that you can cause more damage to your opponent than you will take."

Captain Wilder's words give Monica a lot to think about. Commanding a ship is not just about being the head honcho on the bridge. It's about making the decisions that might send some soldiers to their deaths. If that responsibility is something one cannot handle, then they'll never make it as a commander. She processed his advice in her mind as she turned her gaze outwards towards the fleet as well.

...

Down in Ozma's office, Will and Nene met with their commanding officer to discuss the future of their team. Ozma sat in his chair wearing his flightsuit, as he was due to launch soon. "Lieutenant Wagner has kept me up to date on Klan's condition and it looks like she's going to make it out of there very soon," he said. "We know. He's been texting us at regular intervals," Nene replied. Ozma smiled at her response. "I can't deny that I'm glad to see that you all are getting along so well. I can always rely on Pixie Team to get the job done when their pilots operate with that kind of synergy."

He shifted in his chair and leaned back. "However, I have to inform you that there are plans to give Klan her own squadron. Obviously, this means that there will be some pretty significant personnel changes if and when that does happen." Will and Nene looked at each other with worry. Ozma turned and looked at Nene to ask her something. "I am assuming that you'll request to transfer with your sister, Nene?" She thought about his question for a moment as she looked at Will. "At this point, I doubt it," she said, "It's time I follow my own path and stop living under her shadow. She'd want this for me, anyways. I have good reasons to stay in this squadron without her now."

Ozma was a bit surprised at this development. He had assumed that Nene would follow her sister to wherever she went. He started to look back and forth between Will and Nene a few times. He had seen the two of them spending a lot of time together and could sense a strange aura emanating from them. A smile began to creep across his face as his instincts told him of the connection the two shared with each other. "You guys...?" he started to ask. They both smiled in embarrassment at his fragmented question. He leaned back in his chair and began to laugh before continuing, "Ha ha ha... Alright, I got it. I'll _try_ not to make a big deal out of it, I promise."

Ozma leaned forward on his desk again to get back to the point of the conversation. "Nene, with your sister in the hospital, you'll be in charge of your team, of course." She nodded since she had already guessed this. "How long do you think it will be before she returns to duty?" she asked. "The doctors reported to me that she should be okay to return to the ship and to her duty within a couple of days, but I'm going to order her to stay off-duty for five days at minimum. She needs time to recuperate, or I'm afraid she'll aggravate her injuries. We all know how stubborn she is about that kind of thing." Will and Nene chuckled in agreement.

"Since her Queadluun has been completely destroyed, she's going to have to return to Aimo to have a new one built and customized. I think she'll be distracted enough by that to keep her from getting back into trouble before she's allowed to return to duty." Ozma looked at his computer terminal to check the time. "Wagner is due to return in a few hours. I'll probably have you three flying light duty, since you'll be down a pilot." Will and Nene clicked their tongues in disappointment. Upon hearing their audible disapproval, Ozma looked up from his computer without moving his head. He leaned back in his chair once again to continue, but smiled as he spoke. "I know you guys think you can handle anything, despite any disadvantages you may have. Just try to see things from my point of view. You guys seem to attract trouble out there. As far as I know, you have seen more actual combat as a team than the other teams in the squadron. I almost lost my squadron XO because of it and I don't intend to take any chances on losing any of you because you thought you could handle it while shorthanded. That is my decision; deal with it."

It was as if Will and Nene were grounded until the other half of their team returned to duty. At least they could keep each other company while they stayed leashed to the Quarter for now. The other half of Pixie Team was leashed to the confines of a hospital room on the Zentraedi medical frigate. Although he was free to come and go as he wished, Cal stayed put and waited for Klan to wake up from her sleep. It was difficult for him to patiently wait in one spot for so long, but he didn't want to be off somewhere else when she finally woke up.

He leaned back on the chair he had constructed, looking up at the ceiling to count the number of lights in the room. Just as he was becoming mesmerized by the hum of the lighting, he heard Klan shifting on her bed. He turned his head to watch her softly grimace as her eyes quivered in preparation to open. Still lying on her side, her field of vision pointed in Cal's direction. The green irides of her eyes adjusted to the incoming light levels and she recognized her surroundings once again. Cal studied her every minute movement; an eager student of the intricacies of everyday life.

Upon seeing her finally awake, he initiated the conversation with a little playfulness, "Hey, Half-pint... How're you feeling?" Klan took a moment to answer. She could swear he just called her a "half-pint" again and looked at him in disbelief. "You know, just because I'm laid up in a hospital bed, it doesn't mean that I can't still reach over there and hurt you for making comments like that." Cal laughed as he responded, "Ha ha ha. It sounds like you're doing just fine, then."

Klan sat up in her bed and adjusted its position so she could be more comfortable. As she pulled her hair back to one side of the bed, she felt the tightness of the bandages and surgical scars on her abdomen. She slowly reached down and ran her hands over each bandage to catalogue the damage. She turned to Cal to ask about what had happened to her. "Did they tell you anything about what they had to do?" Cal's expression was indifferent. "Apparently, you had a lot of internal bleeding and they had to repair it. They said that it was probably caused by concussive blows from your Queadluun's explosion." She put her hands back down at her side as she processed the diagnosis. "Makes sense..." she said.

Cal continued with his answer, "You didn't suffer any broken bones nor do you have any signs of a concussion. I'm very impressed!" Klan looked at Cal with an inquisitive expression. "Impressed by what? I'm in a hospital bed." "It's better than being inside of a pine box. I'm impressed that you are sitting here talking to me so soon after suffering what could easily have been fatal injuries. Even the doctor was amazed at how quickly your body is recovering. It was either the Queadluun's superior structural design or your body is nearly indestructible... or it could be a combination of both," he said with a shrug.

Cal turned back to look at Klan. "The doctor mentioned that he thinks that you may have commander-class Zentraedi lineage. It would explain a lot about your durability and recovery abilities, that's for sure." Klan raised her eyebrow to answer, "When you put it that way, you make it sound like I'm some kind of robot." "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. I'm just curious, that's all." Klan looked forward to decide on whether or not she should bring up her past. "He's right, though. My family has a strong military tradition. There have been several commander-class Zentrans in my lineage, including my mother and my grandfather. My sister and I inherited a lot of their genetic traits, for sure."

With his curiosity piqued, Cal went into his usual analysis mode. "That would explain why your sister is pretty tall for a Meltran..." "Yeah, she's actually taller than I am. It was a bit weird to get used to, since I was the bigger one when we were growing up." Cal began to chuckle a bit at Klan's little factoid. "I can't tell your relative heights because when you're micloned... well, you know. When you're both macronized, I can't really tell because of my perspective... hah." Klan gave him a courtesy laugh, even though his attempt at a joke was not very good.

"Anyway, it looks like they'll be releasing you very soon. That's not bad at all for having teetered on the edge of death a little less than a day ago," Cal remarked. Klan rolled onto her side and asked a question that's been bugging her since she first woke up after her surgery, "What are you still doing here, anyways? You should be back with the squadron instead of wasting your time here." Cal reset his demeanor to reflect the serious nature that he was going to need to answer this question. "I was ordered to stay here and report back when your condition stabilized."

Klan initially frowned and then smiled at his response. "Liar." Cal suddenly felt a lot warmer as he realized that she wasn't going to fall for his ruse. She followed up her accusation with an explanation, "I could hear the exchange between you and Ozma back on the Quarter's flight deck. I didn't have my helmet on, but it was right next to me and the radio was still working..." Cal knew he had been found out and looked downwards; his gesture admitted his guilt. The time for frankness had come.

"You know how you told me that you suspected that I was holding something back because I couldn't finish that sentence from awhile back?" he asked. Klan shifted in her bed to get comfortable. A look of interest ran across her face. "This oughta be good... Go ahead, tell me." Cal looked at her for a moment; a little put off by the hint of sarcasm in her voice. She didn't sound like she was going to take this very seriously. He continued after a few seconds of silence, "Well, the answer finally came to me sometime in the middle of the night." Once again, Klan made things a bit uncomfortable for him. She quickly nodded; like a child who was being asked if she wanted some ice cream.

"I looked back to where things started. When I first met you, I felt like I had something to prove. Having spent several months in the hospital to recover from my injuries, I had lost all sense of direction in my life. Like the seaweed that rises from the bottom of the ocean, I felt like all I could do was let myself be bent whichever way the current was flowing. But when I finally returned to duty, it seemed like a road was being constructed in front of me as I continued to walk along. It was as if I was being guided in a certain direction towards an unknown destination. The only explanation I could think of was that my late fiancee had figuratively left a trail of breadcrumbs for me to follow," Cal said while he reached up to clutch the engagement rings he still wore around his neck.

Klan changed her attitude back to a serious tone. "I know you told me the overall synopsis of your past with her, but if you don't mind me asking, what _really_ happened to her? How did you two meet?" Cal stared at her for a moment and gritted his teeth with his mouth closed. For some reason, telling the story was extremely difficult this time. After taking a breath, he answered her question, "Marie and I met in school. We spent a lot of our early teens as good friends while we gradually grew into adults. At some point, our friendship became something more; a feeling of mutual symbiosis where we knew that we enhanced each others lives significantly. Once we reached high school, we understood that this must be love. We grew inseparable and when we graduated, I proposed marriage and she accepted. We decided to wait for a bit before getting married. We felt that we should get our careers on track before focusing on starting a family together."

He was noticeably struggling to continue his story, but seeing Klan's look of interest gave him the incentive to continue. "She had graduated as valedictorian of our class and her aptitude in her engineering classes were recognized by several aerospace industry giants. I, on the other hand, had not done terribly well in school, but I excelled in my piloting classes. Aside from Marie, flying was the only thing I truly enjoyed about school. I didn't give two shits about anything else. Everyone saw us as the odd couple, since she was the ambitious brainiac and I was the daydreaming pilot who couldn't keep his head below the clouds." Klan laughed a bit at the comment. "That does sum you up in a nutshell, doesn't it?" she asked. Cal smiled as he moved on with his story.

"She signed a lucrative contract to work for Bell-Casse Dynamics and her career took off immediately. I spent my time goofing off and couldn't hold a job to save my life. Being on the colony ship, there wasn't a lot of demand for flying outside of becoming an NUNS pilot. However, I felt that I wasn't quite ready to be a soldier. As you can already tell, I have problems following orders," he said with a chuckle. Klan just nodded in agreement before she rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Just as I was about to throw my hands up on becoming a productive member of society, Marie pulled some strings and got me a job as the test pilot for Bell-Casse. Being able to work with her was all I needed to keep myself focused on the job at hand. You may know what it's like to be able to share your passions with the one you love. She enjoyed designing and building weapons, munitions, flight systems, and other various VF enhancements. I enjoyed bringing her dreams to fruition by being the instrument of her aspirations," Cal said with a smile as he remembered the good times he had with his high school sweetheart.

His glow faded as sadness overcame him. "We were both happy with life, living out our dreams together. One day, that all came to a screeching halt." Klan's temporary smile vanished as she realized he was getting to the toughest part of the story to tell. Cal continued with his melancholy story, "I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but I'm sure one of us in the lab had bypassed a safety procedure on one of our tests. Long story short, Marie was bombarded with thousands of rems of radiation because of it. We spent our last hours together in a quarantined room of the hospital. We knew that it was only a matter of time before she passed, but we tried our hardest to keep each other smiling." His eyes had glazed over and he tried not to make eye contact with Klan, but she knew that he was holding it all inside.

"With her last few breaths, she told me that she wanted me to move on in life without her. She told me that she would not allow me to give up on myself and that I needed to fulfill my dreams and live in happiness. Because of her wishes, I have accepted the reality that she is no longer with me on this plane of existence. It's helped me to keep enough strength to trudge on without her near me. In the hospital, it was so difficult to sit at her side, unable to touch or feel her skin against my own. I had to wear a radiation-shielding suit or I'd have been killed too. You see, I too know what it's like to helplessly watch the love of my life die in front of me." Cal finished his story with a sigh and wiped his eyes with his hands. He could see Klan was empathizing with him; her eyes had also glazed over as she took in his story and began to feel the same way as him. Her memories of Michael came to mind and replayed side-by-side with Cal's story.

He saw her reaction and immediately sought to change the atmosphere. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her sad like that. "It's funny how our roles are reversed right now, isn't it? Just last week you were sitting next to me while I was in the hospital, telling me a similar story of your past," he said with a bit of a laugh. Klan smiled again and nodded. A pregnant pause occupied the time as they looked at each other for a moment.

Cal spoke up to break the silence and keep the story moving forward. "You already know this part of the story, but after spending some time off to mourn, I decided to leave the private sector and fly as an NUNS pilot. Due to my credentials and several positive references from my superiors at Bell-Casse, the NUNS gave me the rank of 2nd Lieutenant right out of the academy. I only got to fly in real combat for a couple of missions before the final descent operation onto the planet which we now call Aimo. My mothership had been destroyed by Vajra artillery fire and I was shot down by one of Galaxy's 27's. I ejected just as my VF was hit; the explosion violently propelled my body forward and I was slammed into a large chunk of debris, face first. The concussion shock from the explosion broke several vertebrae in my back and I suffered numerous broken bones from the impact against the debris." He could see Klan grimacing from the visualization of his injuries in her mind.

"Miraculously, I was rescued amongst the floating debris and spent several months in the hospital. The initial prognosis was that I would never walk again and I'd be pretty much an invalid for the rest of my life. I sure showed those egghead doctors, didn't I?" he said with a laugh. Klan was smiling at him, slightly awed by his physical resilience. Her resilience was why she was able to live through her injuries and be there at that very moment to hear Cal's story.

Cal shook his head because he realized how far off track he had gotten from his original statements. "Sorry, I guess I just went way out on a tangent there." Klan looked at him with an apologetic appearance, "No, it's okay. Your story answered a lot of questions I had about you. I now know a little bit more about what makes you tick." Cal smiled before getting back to his response to her primary question.

"Anyway... when I came back into service, certain things kept happening around me, as if they were predetermined. I was convinced that she was helping me to get my life back on track. Just the extreme coincidence of events was enough to assure me of her heavenly intervention. That series of developments led me to where I sit now. When I met you, I could sense that you were someone who'd give me the motivation I needed to move forward in life. When I originally told you the story of my past, I could tell by the look on your face that you had gone through a similar loss of a loved one. Immediately, I felt compelled to help you get through your pain. Not only was I trying to get your attention as a pilot, but I wanted put myself a bit closer to you so I could help you relate better. Pretty cheesy, huh?" he asked. Klan didn't quite know how to answer. She just said what came to mind.

"I must have made you think that I was a stone-cold bitch because I didn't want to have anything to do with you." Cal shook his head as he laughed. "Well, yeah... but that's just how you were being affected by it. I know you're extremely stubborn and hard-headed about a lot of things, but I could sense that there was a better person behind all of the defense mechanisms and walls you had built around yourself because of your loss." His response was honest and concise; just the way she prefers it. "See, I appreciate that you can be so frank about your opinions of me." Cal looked back at her and smiled, "I hate it when people just can't say what they mean... but then again, I am guilty of beating around the bush about your question. That's why I'm having this conversation with you right now." Klan relaxed again in her bed and invited Cal to get back to the point, "Oh yeah. Go on."

"Being reunited with my love of flying was more than enough to keep me busy, but then came the time when I had to fly against a red Queadluun in the mock battle exercises," Cal said as he nodded at Klan. "Those two dogfights against you were probably the most exhilarating experiences I had while at the controls of a VF. My desires changed into surpassing you as a pilot. I did whatever it took to make sure I stayed near you, and that led to me joining Skull Squadron. I didn't expect to be placed under your command, though." Klan raised her eyebrow at the ridiculousness of his expressed desires. "Surpass me, huh? Well, how has that worked out for you so far?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Cal glared at her for making smartass comments in the middle of his monologue.

"Anyway, I found that flying _with_ you, instead of against you, was far more preferable. After arguing with you in person, I thought it'd be a good idea to stay on your good side, if that was possible," Cal said with a nervous laugh. Klan just smiled as she realized that he did turn out to be a little intimidated by her during their altercation in the Quarter's hangar. However, she also did not get her way from him then; his willingness to stand up to her because he knew he was right was something she couldn't help but respect. He did just give her the stare for her recent comments, too.

Cal shifted in his chair as he moved on, "My 'reason' for doing what I do around you kept changing as I spent more time with you. When you first asked me what it was, I really didn't know. It was like I was just operating on auto-pilot. I did what I thought to be the best and it put us through a couple of rough moments. The last of which, being when I passed out in the hangar and spent a couple of days in the infirmary." Klan frowned and apologized, "I'm sorry about that. It wasn't my intention to push you that hard. For some reason, I felt compelled to crush your stubbornness. I couldn't handle having someone like you who could get into my face if he thought that I was wrong about something. As I said before, the list of people whom I respect is short. Ozma is one of the people on that list who you know."

Klan sat up in her bed to elaborate, "As strange as this sounds, I've admired Humans for their strength of spirit. Of all the Zentrans I know, none of them can compare to the very best Humans who are a part of my life. Excluding my sister, of course... Although I have no problems intimidating most Humans, every once in awhile, one comes along and puts things into perspective for me. I can't believe I'm sitting here about to tell you this, but you've become one of those people. Now that we aren't constantly at each others throats, I feel good that I can depend on you to be there to prop me up when I fall over from time to time."

She looked down at him with a grateful smile. Cal was blushing at her overly generous compliments. "Geez... You can imagine how difficult it is to process this with poise and not make a jackass out of myself." Cal got up from his seat and turned around. He punched at the air and grunted in celebration. After his little dance, he regained his composure and sat back down. "Thanks for telling me that." They smiled at each other, but Cal groaned in frustration as he began to think about the fact that he was still not done with his answer. Klan put an indifferent look on her face while she waited for him to start talking again.

"Well, that brings me to the final part of my explanation. Ever since you visited me in the infirmary, it felt like you and I shared a better connection with each other. We were now a team... not just you and I, but Will and Nene too. It helped pull the veil away from my perspective on things and questions started to pop up in my head that needed to be answered. I was going to ask you about them when you came to my quarters that one time, but I got cold feet and changed my mind." "I was wondering what that was about. So what was it?" she asked. "Well, I'm about to get to that. Just sit tight," he answered. "Oh, sorry..." she laughed.

"Since I had made my way into a group of good people, I would do nothing more to upset the status quo. However, when I thought that I had lost you in combat yesterday, I knew that I would have to work extra hard to _maintain_ that status quo. I am obviously relieved to be able to sit here and talk to you now. In simple terms, it just means that I get another chance at accomplishing that goal. Perhaps this is what a squad leader feels about his or her chicklings, huh?" he asked.

Klan nodded in agreement, "Damn straight! So, you understand why I do the things I do with you and anyone who is under my command, right?" Cal answered with apprehension, "Yeah, but... with me, that's not the whole story, either." Klan raised her eyebrow in curiosity, "Oh?" "I told you that my 'reason' kept changing as time went on. It finally hit me like a ton of bricks sometime last night. I was finally able to sum things up to where all questions were answered within myself..." Cal stopped talking as he thought about what he was going to say.

He got frustrated with himself and lightly punched the side of his head a couple of times to knock some of the wires back into place in his brain. He looked back up to Klan with an embarrassed smile to finish his answer. "It's because I've been in love with you... **There**, I said it! _That _is why I do what I do when it comes to you. Are you happy? You can start laughing at me now...!" he yelled as he got up and started to walk in circles, throwing his arms up in the air to accentuate his ranting.

He sighed before turning around again to see how Klan was reacting. She was doing a terrible job of hiding laughter within herself. As she saw him turn around, she tried very hard to suppress her initial reaction. He could tell that she was amused by his outpouring and began to get angry. "I was being sarcastic about the laughing part, goddammit!" he said out of frustration. Klan regrouped herself and stopped laughing, "I'm sorry! I wasn't laughing at you... er, rather, I was just laughing at your little parade there." Her response was not enough to convince him that she was not laughing at his words. He stood up straight and crossed his arms as he glared at her from the side of his eyes.

She laid back down on her side and took a deep breath to explain herself further. "I guess that does explain a lot..." She started to run the past events through her mind while inserting his motivational factor that defined his logic. "Damn. It makes me feel bad that I was such a bitch to you all that time. Why the hell did you wait until now to say that?" Cal's answer didn't take long for him to come up with, "Because I was too much of a coward to admit it.... both to myself and to you." He plopped down back into his seat and laid back to look at the ceiling once again.

Another period of silence hung in the air as they waited for the other to say something. Cal closed his eyes to think to himself while it was quiet. Klan turned her head away to stare blankly at the wall in front of her. She finally spoke up to break that silence, "Well, I don't blame you for waiting this long to tell me. It definitely would have been awkward to hear you admit that to me back when we were still bashing our heads against each other." Cal was still lying back on the chair, but he started to laugh in agreement. "Yeah... At that point, you probably would have laughed me out of the room for real." They both turned and looked at each other while they laughed off the uncomfortable feeling they were experiencing at that moment.

Klan sighed before shedding her own light on the situation, "As much as I appreciate your honesty about all of this, I really don't know what to tell you." Cal stopped her before she could continue, "I don't expect you to reciprocate anything. I just put it out there so you'd know why I do the things I do. Now you know how I feel and you can do whatever you want about it." His nonchalant answer helped Klan, since she didn't have to give any kind of answer to him. Somehow, the lack of any kind of pressure from him was calming to her.

"You do realize the differences between us, right?" Klan said, searching for a way to discourage Cal from becoming too attached to her. "What, that I'm Human and you're Zentran? Klan, I'm disappointed in you for asking that," he said with his arms crossed, "Of all people, you should understand that race and ethnicity don't matter when it comes to loving someone. It didn't stop you from loving Michael. It hasn't stopped your sister from falling in love with Will. We both have 23 pairs of chromosomes in our cells; what makes you think it'd stop me?" Klan was surprised about the news of her sister. "What?" she asked. Cal confidently nodded as he confirmed his statement, "Oh yes. I saw them on the flight deck while you were laid up in the medical shuttle. I can tell that Will loves her. She told me herself that she's attracted to him." Klan smiled and shook her head in disbelief, but she could tell that Cal wasn't lying.

She looked down at the blanket still covering her body up to her stomach. She felt bad about her subconscious attempt at deflecting Cal away from her again. "Look, I don't want to encourage you. You have to remember when I told you that I may be leaving the squadron soon. If that happens, I really don't see much of a possibility of us seeing each other very often." Cal stopped her before she finished again, "Klan! I already told you that whatever you decide is fine! You need to stop making excuses right now for whatever that decision is later. Remember, just be honest and upfront; say whatever it is that you mean. I won't fault you as long as you stick to the truth and only the truth." Cal was getting tired of her inability to convey her true feelings. He had stood up from his chair to give her a piece of his mind and he kept his arms folded, as if he was scolding her.

The look on his face struck Klan like a spear; his gaze pierced through all of her defense mechanisms and breached the walls that held her real emotions in check. She realized that up until now, she'd convinced herself that she would be fine going through life without anyone's help. She admired Humans for their strength of spirit, and there was another one sitting next to her who was not going to let her sell herself short. His words were the stone that shattered the stained-glass window that represented the preconception of her life after Michael. She knew that she'd eventually need someone to give her the push she needs to keep charging ahead in life. The question was "Is _he_ really _that_ person?"

Before any more words could be said, Cal's PDA began to chime from an incoming call. "Shit!" he said, as he reached down to pick it up and answer. "Yes, Sir?" Ozma's voice was inaudible to Klan while Cal spoke with him. "I know, Sir. I will return immediately." He leaned down and away to hide his voice from Klan's ears. "What? Okay, I understand," he dejectedly said. He put the PDA back down into its resting place and turned to Klan.

"He's sending you back to Aimo. You're to pick up your new Queadluun while you're there, but you've also been ordered to take five days off to recover," Cal reported. They both looked downwards upon hearing the news and Klan flopped back down on her pillow. Her mouth opened once again to try to assuage his uncertainty about her feelings for him, "Look Cal, I want you to know that I --" Cal stopped her from finishing her sentence. "Stop! You obviously don't know what you think about it right now. Take five days to recover and think things over while you're at it. If whatever you're thinking now is still what you feel is the right decision after that time, then I will know that you're being honest with yourself and with me. That's all I ask."

He reached for the chickling hat that he had been messing with while she slept. He had somehow pulled fluff out of Klan's pillow and had fashioned temporary wings out of it. "Do you remember this?" he asked. "I was keeping it in my RVF's cockpit as a reminder of you; how your churlish attitude kept me pushing harder to get through to you. It survived my bird's destruction, but the wings had burned off. When I found out that you were going to survive your injuries, I realized that I still had someone to keep me motivated. I replaced the wings with something temporary so that it could fly once again."

Cal hopped onto her pillow and placed it at the corner, where it had less of a chance of being disturbed. He turned to look back into Klan's eyes. "You're the one who created this. I want you to restore it and return it to me when you get back to the fleet." She couldn't believe that something she created as a gag had been turned into such a meaningful possession to him. He truly did worship her in a way that deserved so much more than she had given him in the past.

He put a smile back onto his face as he prepared to leave. "God, it's going to be so boring not having you there to kick me around for a few days," he said with a laugh, "I'm really going to miss you, Klan." She smiled in response and answered in kind, "Same here." She could feel an emotional response coming on, but she didn't want him to see her outpouring before he left. She turned her head to look upwards from her pillow as Cal turned around to climb back onto the table, where his EX-gear was waiting.

As he stood back up on the table, something in his mind stopped him from walking away. He balled his hand up into a fist and pumped it in frustration before he turned around and hopped back onto her pillow. Klan was still looking upwards, instead of at him. Before she realized it, she felt Cal embracing the side of her face in what could be described as a "hug". He had spread his arms out as far as he could and leaned against her cheek. She closed her eyes and inched her face towards him so he knew that she appreciated it. "Get better soon, Half-pint. I'll see you in a few days..." Once again, the "Half-pint" comment came out of his mouth as a reference to her. Klan realized that it's probably going to become something of a pet name only he will use. The ridiculousness of the nickname really made it stick well, though. Her eyes shot open as she felt him place a kiss onto her cheek. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized what that feeling was.

As she could hear Cal climbing into his EX-gear, a horrifying thought came to her mind. She turned to look at him and stopped him before he boosted off, "Cal." He stopped what he was doing and looked back at her so she could say what she wanted to say. "Don't die. If you do, I swear to God, I'll kick your ass when I find you again in the next life," she said while shaking her fist in front of her face. A smile returned after she put her hand back down. Cal smiled back and clicked into the final locking piece of his EX-gear. He saluted her order and took off from the table's surface towards the door. She gently placed her hand on her cheek where he kissed her and began to blush as she watched him exit the room.

Klan could hardly bear watching him leave. The feeling of loneliness didn't take long to fall over her body like a layer of cold air. She looked up at the tiny chickling hat still sitting on the corner of her pillow and picked it up with her thumb and index finger. Several thoughts raced through her mind as she focused on the burnt wings covered by the pillow fluff. To her, it was as if the burnt wings were the friendship between them that had nearly been destroyed. Thanks to Cal's painstaking efforts, the wings had been reconstructed temporarily. It was going to be up to her to finish the job, if she chose to do so.

She began to think about all of the memories that she had of her interactions with him. She sat up in bed and folded her legs close to her chest. Leaning forward to wrap her arms around her knees, she placed the hat into the palm of her hand and focused on its fragility. That fragility also existed in their friendship, but their connection had endured the hardships brought on by her inability to cope with her stubbornness and her emotional stress. Suddenly, all of the memories of her mistreatment of Cal made something snap inside of her. The fact that she had put him through so much and he _still_ wanted to be with her began to echo endlessly in her mind.

No longer able to apologize to him for her mistakes, there was only thing she could do to help make herself feel better. Initially, she wasn't able to explain why there were tears falling from her eyes. Each time she looked up at the hat in her palm, it reminded her of how she must have been hurting his feelings when she treated him like she did. This process went on for several minutes as she bled the remorse out of her body through her tears. Eventually, she could look at the hat and smile; assured that she would be forgiven by him when she returned to duty. Just as long as he doesn't get himself killed in combat before that time comes...


	23. Young Hearts

Will sat at the table in his quarters, busily poring over a couple of manuals in his free time. His concentration was suddenly interrupted by the doors sliding open to reveal Cal, who had just returned to the ship. Will's eyes lit up a bit upon seeing his roommate; there seemed to be a little more cheeriness inside of him for the last several hours. Finding out that your love for someone is being returned in kind can have that kind of effect on most people.

Will leaned back in his chair as he greeted Cal. "Hey! Welcome back. How was your vacation?" he said, as he folded his hands over his stomach. Cal appeared to be a bit tired, but more than anything, he had the look of someone who was buried deep in his own thoughts. "'Vacation', huh? Been holding the fort down okay without me?" he asked. "Things are just great!" Will replied.

Cal stopped walking for a minute to give Will a confused look before moving on to sit on his bed. "You're in a great mood, I see. What are you reading over there?" "Just some manuals on the 'G' variant of the 25," Will replied while stretching out; as if he was playing it cool and nonchalant. Cal stared at him, waiting for the rest of the story. Will saw his lack of reaction and caved in to explain why he was reading the manuals for the sniper-specialized VF-25.

"Commander Lee says that we're not going to be flying our normal missions until Klan returns to duty. Instead, we're going to be spending most of our time on alert status and flying escort within the fleet. Looks like we won't be seeing any action until she gets back," Will announced. Cal clicked his tongue and looked at the floor in disgust. Will smiled at his reaction. "I know, right? That's the same reaction Nene and I had when he told us. His exact words were 'Deal with it'. Anyway, I asked if I could try out the sniper loadout and the Commander didn't have any objection to it. He kind of chuckled at the idea, to be honest. Must be some kind of inside joke..."

Cal looked back up at Will to ask him a question that popped into his head, "Where is Nene, anyways? How's things with you two?" Will was a bit embarrassed because he knew that Cal was aware of the connection between himself and Nene. "Things are just great! I never thought I'd see myself falling for a Meltran like that, but here I am... Anyway, she left the ship to go visit Klan. She heard that Klan is returning to Aimo for a few days and she wanted to check in with her before that happens. I wish we could return to Aimo, even if just for a little while..."

An undeniable urge to take a little nap overcame Cal while he was in the middle of the conversation with Will. He laid down on his bed and responded, "I tell you what... Let me take a little snooze here and I'll meet up with you for lunch. I have some questions to ask you then." Will began to wonder what was on Cal's mind, but turned his attention back to the manuals on the table next to him. His thoughts wandered on to the whereabouts of his beloved Nene, instead.

She sat in the chair once occupied by Klan's doctor when he was talking to Cal the previous day. Klan had a lot of questions for her darling little sister regarding her feelings for Will. "You guys are pretty sneaky... I hadn't suspected a thing, to be honest. I thought you had a thing for Brera Sterne?" Nene's face momentarily displayed a state of shock at her sister's question. "How did you come to that conclusion?" she asked with a defensive tone in her voice. "I saw you looking at him when we were boarding the Quarter a few weeks ago. I haven't forgotten about that look on your face."

Nene smiled and quickly dipped her head a bit before answering. "Yeah, I was a little intrigued by his personality. It seemed like he could use the companionship of someone other than just his sister. I've talked to him on a couple of occasions and he was a pretty interesting and nice guy. It was more of a passing fancy, though," she said as she looked back up to Klan with a gratified smile. "If I run into him while I'm on Aimo, I'll be sure to tell him that you said 'hello'," Klan said with a mischievous smile. Nene didn't like where this was going. "Don't start trouble for me!" she said with a bit of a blush. She sought to change the subject as quickly as possible to avoid any further interrogation by her sister.

"So, speaking of passing fancies, when are you and Cal going to quit acting like a couple of children and start being completely honest with each other?" The feeling of shock overcame Klan. She was very surprised by Nene's question and wondered if it was obvious at all that there was a strange energy being passed between herself and Cal. Subconsciously, she hoped that Nene was just grasping at straws in an attempt to get Klan to reveal the actual truth. "What are you talking about?" she asked, as if Nene's question had just come out of left field.

Nene's confident demeanor indicated that she was well aware of the facts... even if they could quite possibly be circumstantial. "Oh, come on, you mean to tell me that he didn't just spend an entire day watching over you while you slept, 'just because'? You didn't just throw yourself in front of his disabled RVF to save his life, 'just because'? Don't make me laugh..." Klan tried not to smile as she looked forward and away from Nene to process her next response. She sighed as she turned back to Nene and responded, "Okay, just promise that you won't make a big deal out of it..." Nene's face lit up like a Christmas tree in anticipation of her sister's answer. "You're not gonna believe what he told me a little while ago," Klan said as she put her face into her hands to hide the embarrassment from her sister.

…

The bridge on the Macross Quarter remained relatively quiet for the latter part of the current shift. Due to the lack of any skirmishes or communications chatter, the crew found it somewhat difficult to remain alert. Jen had decided to focus her efforts on her inner thoughts. She'd agreed to undertake the training and testing for her promotion, but it would be several days before she is finished. She briefly turned to see Monica finally enjoying the comfort of the Captain's chair. Although Commander Ortiz was officially in charge of the bridge, he was probably busy taking care of his business in the Captain's office nearby. Jen sighed as she turned back towards her console and glared at the screen.

"What's wrong?" she heard a voice say to her. She looked up and towards Bobby, who was standing next to her with a concerned look on his face. She smiled at the fact that he always knows when she needs to be talked to. It's no wonder the girls on the bridge love him so much; he's always there when they need him the most. She turned forward to look out of the bridge and into the darkness of outer space in front of the ship. "I hope I'm doing the right thing," she said. "About training for your promotion?" Bobby asked. Jen nodded in response. Bobby asked another question, "How is that something to be worried about?" His mind quickly began to run through all of the possible responses and with the speed and efficiency of one of the computers on the ship, he selected the correct answer from the long list. "You're worried that you will not have any time to be with Cal, aren't you?"

Jen looked back at Bobby with a bit of a blush, but more of a look of surprise that he knew _exactly_ what she was thinking. With a sense of amazement, she confirmed his guess, "Yeah... how do you _do_ that?" she asked. Bobby just laughed before he moved forward with the conversation, "I'm sure he's a great guy, Jen, but you have to understand that you can't _force_ someone to be in love with you. 90% of the time, it just 'happens'." "What do you mean?" "Well, I'd have to say that the strongest relationships are forged between two people who can easily share their lives and passions together. If you're not that much alike; if you don't have the same things that make you both wake up every morning, the relationship might suffer. Without that, it sometimes works out, but I wouldn't put any money on it."

Jen looked down at her console again to think things over for a moment. "Are you saying that because we're heading in two different directions, that maybe it just isn't in the cards for us?" Bobby frowned at her question. "I don't want to tell you that it's not going to work out, but I will say that you can't get your hopes up too much. If, at some point, your lives intersect again, then it might be the right time to get together with him. This is only my opinion, but it seems that you two are going on diverging paths. You're going to train to become a bridge commander, and he's still in love with flying." Bobby pointed towards Monica, who was still sitting in the Captain's chair. "One of you will be sitting there..." He then pointed out into space. "...the other will be out there flying."

Jen immediately blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, "But Commanders Ozma Lee and Cathy Glass make it work..." Bobby looked at her with a bit of pity, following her desperate answer. "When it comes to relationships, they all don't work the same. You've done more than enough to give Cal a good picture of what you want from him. If he wants to, he'll come back for more. If he doesn't, then now just isn't a good time. You can keep spinning your wheels with him, or you can move forward with other aspirations. If your lives cross again, you both can re-evaluate your relationship together."

She looked out into space again, almost cursing the nothingness for being the thing that attracts Cal to be out there. Realizing the absurdity or her subconscious desire to lash out at something that quite literally isn't tangible, she laughed it off and turned back to Bobby. "You're always right about these kinds of things. I guess I can use the time to focus on my career until the next time we cross paths. I can't focus on both love and career, can I?" "I didn't say you couldn't have both at the same time. You just have to find someone who is walking the same path as you are. It's _very_ possible to have your cake and eat it too." Jen thought about that for a moment. "Well, I guess I see your point. I wonder where I should start, then... ha ha." Bobby had some ideas, but he wasn't going to be specific. "I can think of a couple of people right off the top of my head, but..."

The doors to the Captain's office opened and Commander Ortiz emerged onto the bridge. He pulled the sleeve back from his uniform and checked his watch. After surveying the state of the bridge, he finally spoke, "Okay, I guess that's it for our shift. Wentz, I need to meet with you to discuss the next step of your training. What are you doing later?" Jen looked at Bobby with a strange smile. Bobby still stood looking at Jen with a smile, but he moved his eyes and nodded his head in Commander Ortiz's direction. Jen got his message and turned to answer the Commander's question. "I was going to get something to eat in the mess. Would you like to meet there?" Ortiz responded with a smile and a nod before he left the bridge towards the elevator.

...

After a bit of a power nap, Cal met up with Will in the mess to get back to the conversation they had started earlier. "So, are you going to be flying that 25G today?" Will finished taking a drink from his cup and answered, "Yup! I'm actually pretty excited to give 'er a whirl. It's too bad I probably won't be able to use it in combat for at least a while, since we're going to be leashed to the fleet until Klan gets back. Is your new bird ready to go?" Cal had a bit of food in his mouth when he answered, "Mmhmm..." He finished chewing and swallowed his food before getting to a subject of more pressing matters.

"So, tell me... what's it like to be loved by a woman who, in her natural form, stands at around 35 feet?" Will shook his head and waved the question off like it was nothing. "Bah, that doesn't bother me at all. Why do you ask?" "I was just curious. Actually, I think it's pretty awesome to see you two so close together. I'm almost jealous of you, to be honest," Cal said. He suddenly realized that he might be saying a little too much in regards to Will's relationship with Nene. Will began to look at Cal to see if he could tell what was going through his mind. "Hey, get your own girlfriend... you stay away from mine," he said with a wink. Cal slouched to one side and propped his head up with one hand while he looked up at the ceiling. "Yeah, I'm working on that," he harmlessly said as his thoughts quickly jumped to Klan.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cal saw Nene enter the mess hall in search of Will. She noticed that she had been seen by Cal and waved off his look while shaking her head and putting her finger in front of her mouth in a gesture to be quiet. Cal looked back down towards Will so he wouldn't give her position away. She started to sneak up on Will, as if she was going to do something to him from behind. Before she could do anything, Cal decided to play a bit of a game with them. "Will, why don't you tell me all about Nene? I'd like to know _exactly_ what you think of her," he said, as he leaned forward and rested his chin on his folded hands. Nene stopped dead in her tracks with a shocked look on her face as she realized that Cal was going to get Will to express his feelings for her.

Will sighed with slight ecstasy and leaned back in his chair. His head almost hit Nene, who was standing directly behind him. She backed off slightly so he wouldn't sense her presence behind him. "Ah, she's the sweetest girl you'll ever meet. It's like being in love with a goddess... She's a perfect angel around me, but when she's out there flying, she's not afraid to deliver the smack-down to anything that comes near us. Beautiful, but deadly to her enemies... _the_ perfect combination in a woman, I'd say." Will stopped when he started to see Cal holding in laughter. He was watching Nene's reaction to Will's words without looking directly at her. A quick glance above his head gave Will an idea as to why Cal was behaving so strangely.

"She's standing right behind me, isn't she?" he said with a huge blush on his face. Will tried to turn around, but Nene stopped him by putting her arms around his shoulders and dropping down to hug him from behind. She nestled her chin onto his shoulder as she spoke, "Aw, you're such a sweetie. You know that when a guy says things like that about his girlfriend to other guys, he really means it." She excitedly kissed him on the cheek and turned her gaze towards Cal, who was a bit embarrassed, but was happy for them. "...and _you_. You and I are going to have to have a little chat!"

Immediately, Cal knew what this was going to be about. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Will turned his head towards Nene, who still had her chin on his shoulder. "Why? What happened?" he asked. Nene looked at Will and then back at Cal. Her face turned indifferent as she answered, "Oh, he didn't tell you? Well, you're not gonna believe this, but--" Her sentence was interrupted by Cal making a choking noise and waving his hand in a cutting motion at his neck. He wore a look of nervousness as he shook his head at Nene. She stood up and glared back at him accusingly, as if he was expected to divulge all information to his best buddy who was sitting in front of him. Will was still looking at her, waiting for her to finish his sentence. "What? What is it?" he said. She put her arms akimbo and sighed at him while shaking her head with a smile.

…

"Come on, Will! We're leaving you behind if you don't move your ass now!" Cal yelled as he and Nene sped off towards their next waypoint on their patrol route. Will was still busy goofing around with the Dragunov sniper rifle that his 25G used as its main weapon. He pushed off from the hull of the ship he was using to anchor himself while he scanned the asteroid field for a lucky shot at an unsuspecting target in the distance. "I want to fire this thing at a live target!" he said with a pout. Cal smiled at Will's lust for some action, "Don't worry, I am sure we can find something to shoot at. We do seem to attract a lot of trouble as a team, don't we?" Both Nene and Will laughed at his comment as they moved on to their next stop within the fleet.

Cal attentively watched his sensor readouts to see if he could locate any nearby hostiles, but the asteroid field significantly reduced any chances of him seeing anything beyond the fleet's extremities. As if to answer his prayers, the faint flashes of a distant skirmish could be seen out of the corner of his eye. "Hey, look at what we have over here! Let's go check it out!" Nene and Will could see what Cal was talking about and they flew in the direction of the fighting.

Pixie Team set themselves up on the hull of one of the Quiltra-Quelamitz class Zentraedi warships in the fleet. Will began to fumble with the controls of his 25G while he zeroed in on one of the Vajra drones in the distance. "You couldn't hit the broadside of a battleship," Cal taunted. Will tried to ignore Cal's heckling and fired his first shot a live target. The round sailed wide of his intended target, alerting the drone of their positions. "Tch... I _told_ you!" Cal said.

His sensors detected another group of Vajra closing in on the distant skirmish. "Oh crap, they're about to get some more company. Will, you better hit one of them!" Before Will could react, Nene finally interjected into their conversation, "Watch how it's done..." She fired the particle beam cannon that was mounted on the back of her Queadluun into the flight path of the new pack of drones. The particle beam was significantly slower than the sniper rifle's round, but it steadily sailed towards it's intended target. With an impact that could almost be felt way back at Pixie Team's position, the particle beam intercepted the path of one of the drones and slammed into the Vajra, melting through its armor and completely destroying it.

"Holy crap! Now, _that's_ a shot! You'd better be careful, Will, or I might have to steal her away from you!" Cal jokingly said as he grappled Nene's Queadluun with his battroid. "Hey! Try it and I'll beat your ass!" Will yelled back in response. He turned his attention back to tracking down his target once again and his battroid assumed its firing stance. "I can do that too!" He remained silent for a few moments while he zeroed in on his target. He exhaled and then pulled the trigger. The sniper round tore its way through the emptiness of space towards its destination. Time seemed to crawl by slowly as Will watched his shot close in on its target until it pierced through the thick armor of one of the mecha-drones. The Vajra listed away from its initial trajectory and violently exploded.

"Yeah!" Will exclaimed as he pumped his battroid's fist in celebration. Cal remained as nonchalant as could be expected, "Yeah, I knew you could do it all along..." "Keep those kills coming and I'll reward you with a little surprise when we get back onto the Quarter," Nene said with a bit of a swoon. Cal rolled his eyes, "Oh, brother..." Will was excited to take part in Nene's incentive program. Emboldened by her words, he began to search for his next target.

Before long, Cal's sensors alerted him of incoming hostiles. Pixie Team's presence had become an annoyance to the Vajra nearby and they sought to remove the thorn from their sides by destroying the sniping team. "We've got incoming!" Cal declared. He followed Nene as they sped off to intercept the approaching drones. Will remained perched on the hull of the battleship and turned his aim towards the attackers. His two shots yielded another kill before Nene and Cal could even get within range to engage them.

"I told you we'd find you some action!" Cal said as he began to open fire on his target. The Quiltra-Quelamitz battleship began to open fire with its turret emplacements upon detecting the incoming threat. "This is the Kopetz calling Pixie Team. Are you guys trying to stir up trouble for us?" the radio crackled. "No, Sir. We're taking care of our business out here. Thanks for the supporting fire, though!" Nene responded. She closed the fleet comm line and began to laugh into the team channel. Will and Cal were also laughing at the fact that they all were throwing rocks at the hornet nest. Even without Klan, they were still having a lot of fun flying and fighting together.

Through the rain of anti-Vajra fire from the battleship, one of the drones had broken loose from the pack and maneuvered its way into a position to fire upon Will's battroid. "You have one coming in from above you!" Nene exclaimed. Will's sensors alerted him of the impending threat, and he looked up just in time to see incoming projectile fire. He skillfully rolled his battroid out of the way as the shots impacted upon the Kopetz's hull in a sequential pattern.

Rather than fly off to safety, Will boosted off of the ship's hull towards the incoming drone and delicately weaved his way through both friendly and hostile fire while in battroid form. He engaged his attacker by drawing his rifle at close range and pulled the trigger to fire. The two combatants passed each other amongst the chaos of the Kopetz's anti-aircraft fire, appearing to have missed their targets. However, the drone began to float sideways, devoid of any movement before it exploded. Will's battroid remained facing the opposite direction; he had turned a blind eye to his target, knowing full well that he had hit his mark. He transformed back to fighter mode and sped off to find another good sniping position.

"Woo! Did you see that kill? I am just too dangerous!" he exclaimed. While Will looked for a new vantage point, Cal and Nene had very few problems dispatching the few remaining drones who were attacking their position. The turret fire from the battleship slowly subsided as the number of hostile targets gradually reduced to zero. Will was scanning the asteroid field for any more targets to squeeze off some more rounds at. "Looks like our friends out there survived their little fight. Wait... Aw, I see the wreckage of one downed VF. Poor guy..." Will said as he clicked his tongue in disappointment. "It could have been worse. I guess it's a good thing that we took out a couple of their targets for them and drew the fire of this group here. I think I can sleep well tonight if we look at it that way..." Nene remarked.

Pixie Team regrouped into formation and moved onto their next patrol waypoint in the fleet. Will was still charged up about his kills, but he was quite impressed by Nene's long-range kill with her particle beam cannon. "That was one hell of a shot, Nene. I wish I could fly in one of those Queadluuns some time..." he commented. An idea popped into her mind as a reward for Will's three kills during their skirmish. "Oh, I'm sure we can find a way to make that happen."

The three pilots began to pass by the medical frigate that housed their beloved team leader. Nene sighed when she was reminded of her sister still onboard that ship. "I hope she makes it back quickly... I am actually looking forward to what happens when she does," Nene said with a smile in her voice. Cal had a feeling she was directing that statement at him. Before he could even respond, she continued with her assault, "We still need to have that little talk, Cal." Her voice was noticeably accusational, as if he was in trouble... which probably wasn't far from the truth.

Will was still enormously curious as to the nature of this "conversation" that Nene wanted to have with Cal. "What is with this secrecy? Why do you need to talk to him, Nene?" "You're too immature to understand, Will," Cal said with a laugh. "Oh, eat my ass, Cal. Whatever it is, I think I can get Nene to tell me eventually." "That means you'd have to do a little bit of work. That should be enough of a deterrent for you. I'm confident that it can remain a secret for at least a little while," Cal responded.

With the frigate behind them and getting farther away as they moved to their next waypoint, they didn't notice the launching of a shuttlecraft from the ship. Klan sat in one of the seats near a window and could see Nene, Cal, and Will flying away from the shuttle. She briefly gasped as she recognized the Queadluun Rhea, accompanied by a VF and RVF. She reached out with her hand to touch the glass of the viewport in a vain effort to communicate with her pilots.

Something in his mind told Cal to turn his RVF around to see what was going on behind him for just a moment. He stopped his forward progress and switched to battroid form as he turned to see what was drawing his subconscious attention. He saw a shuttlecraft just as it folded into super dimension space, but it initially didn't seem significant to him. He shrugged it off and continued on to catch up with his teammates. Cal's mind ran through the memory of his recent conversation with Klan on the medical frigate. He sighed as he moved his bird back into formation. He wondered how he was going to get through this impending conversation with Nene. Certainly, she was going to grill him for every bit of information she could on the matters concerning himself and her sister.

…

The mess hall was relatively busy serving the crew members who had just completed their shifts. However, Cal shared a table with nobody and ate his meal in silence. It was probably the way he'd prefer it at this point. The only company that he'd be able to tolerate right now would be either Will or Nene, but they were most likely off doing something together. In a way, he had started to envy Will for the fact that he had someone who wanted to spend their free time with him. He was glad to see them happy together, though.

After finishing his short meal, Cal headed back to the hangar to see Ozma in his office. Ozma had stopped him in the halls before he made it to the mess hall and asked him to come by after he finished eating. Cal had wondered if there was going to be some kind of ass-chewing coming his way after Pixie Team's recent sortie. The commander of the Kopetz didn't sound very happy on the radio about the skirmish that was occurring just outside of his ship's hull. When a pilot begins to think that he can do pretty much anything he wants, that attitude usually leads to a lot of trouble.

The atmosphere in Ozma's office was generally calm, though. Ozma invited Cal inside and to take a seat in front of his desk. Ozma got started quickly; he seemed to be in a hurry to get a few things done. Such is the hectic life of a squadron commander... "So, I just got done talking to Klan, who is probably back on Aimo as we speak. She shared a few things with me concerning you..." Cal began to get nervous. That busybody probably spilled the beans to the entire fleet about the words that he shared with her in confidence. It wasn't too bad that just Nene knew, but now Ozma was about to start giving him a hard time about his admitted feelings for Klan.

"She made it clear to me that I leave the rest of your training and development to her as long as you don't mind waiting for her to come back to duty. She seemed to be aware of the fact that you might be a little antsy to complete your assessment test as soon as possible, but she wanted me to ask you if you're okay with waiting for a few days," Ozma said. "That's fine," Cal responded with a shrug. Ozma leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his lap. He began to chuckle as he continued, "According to her, I'm going to be in a lot of trouble if I let you die before she gets back. I'm not sure what that means, but I'm curious nonetheless."

The situation hadn't changed quite yet. Cal was still wondering if he was going to have to try extra hard to squirm his way out of this conversation without giving too much away to Ozma. He could tell that Ozma was not the kind of person to hold gossip-worthy information like this inside of him. If it's a classified matter, he's as solid as a rock. When it comes to information that would lead to the humiliation or embarrassment of one of his chicklings, you can put money on it that he will disseminate it to as many people as he can. It sounds like he belongs on the bridge with the rest of the gossip crew who serve on the command deck.

Cal shrugged his shoulders. "I guess we'll have to wait until she gets back before we find out," he said with a nonchalant tone. It was easy for Ozma to pick up on Cal's evasiveness. He processed the reaction in his mind for a moment before speaking again, "Well, anyway... I am glad to see that you two are not fighting with each other anymore. Klan speaks very highly of you and I, for one, am interested to see you in action as a team leader some time down the road. Make sure you're ready for your assessment test when she gets back in a few days." "Sir," Cal acknowledged with a nod.

A moment of silence followed Ozma's statement. Both pilots were unsure of whether or not something else needed to be said. For Ozma, he was still wondering if there was something more going on between Klan and Cal, but he wanted to see if Cal would open his mouth about it. Cal began to shift in his chair as if he was preparing to stand. Realizing that he wasn't going to get any more information, Ozma stood up to bid Cal goodbye. Cal began to salute, but was stopped by Ozma before he could get his hand to his head. "Don't get yourself killed out there, Wagner. For the sake of not having a full-sized Meltran bearing down on me because I couldn't keep you alive, just do me that favor." Cal smiled and saluted, "I didn't have any plans to get killed... I plan on living forever, Sir." They laughed a bit at Cal's answer before going their separate ways.

Ozma reflected on Cal's parting statement, "_I plan on living forever_." The very same words came from his own mouth not too long ago. It looks like Cal has found the pilot's ideal level of confidence and cockiness. It was Ozma's firm belief that all good pilots should be at least a _little_ cocky. While under the intense pressure of overwhelming odds in a battle, that cockiness is all a pilot has to keep them operating at their best performance levels. When an average pilot begins to succumb to his fear of death, a _good_ pilot relies on his confidence and cockiness to stay strong in the face of certain death.

Realizing he had forgotten to ask, Ozma darted to the door and stuck his head out to yell to Cal. Cal was still walking across the hangar towards the living area of the ship when he heard Ozma calling for him. "Wagner! Have you seen your teammates recently?" Cal shrugged as he looked around the hangar. Will's VF was in its storage space, but Nene's Queadluun was missing. It looked like there was some sort of extravehicular activity going on...

The missing Queadluun weaved in and out of the planetoids in the asteroid belt at high speeds. Several of the fleet's capital ships were buzzed by the rogue power armor during its unauthorized flight. The occasional call from the flight-control officers of each ship was ignored by the pilot, who instead chose to turn up the music playing inside of the cockpit to drown out the fleet comm line. "Zero-g Love! Zero-g Love! 4, 3, 2, 1, Zero-g Love..!" the song echoed.

Nene looked to her left shoulder with a smile, where Will had braced himself during the flight. Even though he was wearing his EX-gear, he had to work hard to hold on or he'd be thrown around the cockpit during Nene's furious maneuvering. Despite this fact, the two pilots were having the time of their lives together. Will's first time flying inside of a Queadluun would be a trip he would never forget, even though he wasn't the one at the controls.

After a long period of seemingly-reckless aerospace maneuvering, Nene sought out a good spot to stop for awhile. She turned off the music and opened the Queadluun's hatch to exit the power armor. They both floated out into the openness of space, conveniently oriented in the direction of the distant planet of Aimo. It reflected the Coral star's light back into their eyes with a soothing blue glow. It was no more than a mere speck from their position, but it still shone with the brightness of an incandescent bulb. No doubt, this intense shine was indicative of the strength of the aggregated life living upon that planet. Both the native life of Aimo and the lives of the colonists whom had recently arrived there pierced through the void of space, like a single candle burning in a dark, empty room.

As silence returned to their ears once again, Will had to remark at the appropriateness of the song they were listening to, "Zero-g love, indeed... I've never had so much fun before. Thank you for this, Nene." "Oh, the ride isn't quite done yet!" Nene remarked with a laugh. They both aimlessly floated through space as they marveled at the view of the distant planet, the bright Coral star, the planetoids of the asteroid belt, the ships in the fleet, and the backdrop of millions of stars set in an infinitely large jet-black cloth. There was nothing around to interrupt their time together and in their minds, they wished that it could go on eternally...


	24. Homecoming

A/N: A couple of items here...

First, I've been suffering from lack of Internet access, as I've entered a billing dispute with my ISP. I will get access back when I either change providers, or resolve the dispute with my current ISP. That means that I will have less of a chance to upload new chapters and other various activities that I need to progress this story further for the readers. That being said, I've also been fighting a re-addiction to Civilization 4... I spent most of my free time playing that, instead of writing, this past week, so I haven't even started on chapter 29 yet. I do have the next couple of chapters plotted out in my notes; I just need to get started writing again. Here's chapter 24, but that means that I am now only 4 chapters ahead in my writing. I prefer a "comfort zone" of 5 chapters or more, so I may wait a bit longer to post 25... long enough to finish chapters 29 and 30. Just a head's up for those of you who have come to rely on me posting a new chapter at least once a week. If it seems like I disappear for a bit, it's just because I am working hard to catch up.

Second, I felt, at this point, that it was time to start creating my own background stories for existing characters. You'll find a lot of the stuff that I write in from this point on is of my own imagination, so don't go fact-checking on me... hehe. Again, I try to remain as accurate to the original as possible, but when I feel like there's a story to be told that fills in some gaps, I'll take advantage of the opportunity. Enjoy! (05/30/10)

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The door to the shuttlecraft opened, flooding the cabin with the orange hue of the dawning sky. A cool gust of fresh Aimo air rushed in and greeted the passengers with a pleasant caress. As each Zentraedi soldier disembarked onto _terra firma_, they stopped for a moment to take in their surroundings. This was "home" to them, regardless of whether or not they had been living on the colony ship all of their lives or if they had just arrived with the new Zentraedi fleet several weeks earlier. Whether their business was to keep them on the planet for a long while, or just for a short visit, it was still a refreshing feeling to return to civilization.

Klan exited amongst the other Zentraedi soldiers. She wore her SMS jacket over her NUNS uniform and carried a duffel bag filled with some of the belongings that Nene brought to her while she was still on the medical frigate. She stopped for a moment to admire the work that had been done to construct the Zentraedi starport so quickly. When she left Aimo with the Quarter, it didn't even exist yet. Somehow, the inclusion of such a grand complex to the overall progress of the colony's growth reminded her of the importance that the majority population of Humans put onto giving Zentrans everything that they needed to flourish.

As she walked towards the transportation depot, she paid no attention to the small crowds of Zentrans who had gathered at the starport in anticipation for the arrival of their loved ones. She didn't expect anyone to be there to greet her, seeing as how there was nobody around to see her and her sister off when they left the planet. Deep inside her mind, she harbored a desire to rebuild her family connections. She'd been fairly non-existent when it came to familial gatherings and it only served to separate her from the people who'd probably do anything for her. Maybe it was a good time to start rebuilding some bridges while she was here...

The group of passengers approached the depot and entered the building one by one. As Klan entered the door, she heard a faint voice call her name. "Klan!" She looked to her right to see Cathy standing on a miclone-sized elevated walkway, frantically waving her arms to get the Meltran's attention. Klan put a smile on her face as she realized that she actually did have someone who came to see her upon her arrival. Even though the relationship between the two women was not much more than mere acquaintance, she treated Cathy as a good friend. After all, Cathy is the one who Ozma regards as his equal... and that's saying a lot, since Ozma is Klan's respected superior officer.

Klan stepped to the side to get out of the way of the other Zentrans who were trying to get into the building behind her. She greeted Cathy with a salute, "Cathy! I'm surprised to see you here. How did you know I was coming back to Aimo?" Cathy shook her head at Klan's formal posture, "You don't have to salute me, hon. I should salute you for being the one who keeps my dear Ozma out of trouble..." Cathy said with a laugh as she playfully saluted back. "I was wondering if you had time to talk real fast. I have some news to share with you, if you're interested." Klan agreed with a nod and began to walk with Cathy as they chatted a bit to catch up.

They passed a large poster hung on the wall that showed a collage of pictures featuring Ranka, Sheryl, and several new and popular entertainers. Part of the poster read, "Are you looking for a chance to show off your talent? Interested in giving back a little thanks to our military personnel for their hard work? Contact the United Frontier Service Organizations! We are looking for amateur acts of all types!" The bottom of the poster listed several various acts already signed on and the numerous charitable organizations who were lending a hand to the project.

...

The door to the bustling office had a temporary sign hanging on it, labeled "United Frontier Service Organizations Offices. Appointments only, please!" A delivery driver approached the door carrying a couple of insulated bags with pizzas and food inside. He read the sign on the door and scratched his head for a moment before boldly knocking. Through the commotion on the other side of the door, a voice could be heard speaking over the office noise, "Would someone get that door, please? I think it's the delivery guy..." The delivery driver sighed in relief as he realized that he was actually expected and that the sign didn't apply to him...

"I never thought that organizing events like this would be so much work. I now have a much deeper respect for Elmo," Ranka said with a sigh as she reached for her drink. Ranka, Nanase, and Brera shared the table with a few volunteer employees who were working with them. Too tired to clear the table, they had placed all of the food boxes on top of the piles of paperwork and books. The occasional ringing phone in the background went largely ignored; the workers were on their break and relied on the answering machine to fill in for them.

Ranka's cell phone began to hop around on the table with a chirp, alerting her of an incoming call. She grabbed the over-animated phone and answered the call when she saw who was on the ID. "Hi, Sheryl! Are you going to make it in today?" Sheryl stood against the wall in an alleyway next to a one-way door, which was propped open for her to come back inside when she was done. She held a bottle of water in one hand and her phone in the other. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but I'm going to be stuck in this recording session for several more hours. Those slave-drivers at the record company have me under constant surveillance until I get done with this record. I can assure you that I try hard to make it in to help you guys out when I manage to sneak away." Ranka's face turned glum at Sheryl's response. "We could really use your expertise here. Plus, you need to give us a little sneak preview of your new work!"

Sheryl was a bit relieved that Ranka didn't take it too negatively. She knew that Ranka was a little in over her head with their new endeavor. Her voice turned sympathetic, "I promise you that as soon as I'm done with my recording sessions, you'll have my full and undivided attention. I can't wait to get to work with you guys on your project." A bald-headed man stuck his head out of the door and looked to the side where Sheryl was standing. He wore a pair of colored sunglasses on his head to cover his bare scalp. "Come on, Sheryl. We're waiting on you **again**." Sheryl angrily glared at him for interrupting her break. He didn't even bother to wait for her to answer before shrinking back into the building.

Sheryl recomposed herself and turned her attention back to the phone conversation that was taking place before it was rudely interrupted by the main source of her current annoyances. "I've gotta get back inside. I barely get a moment's peace with these vultures circling around me all of the time," she said with a sigh. Ranka bid Sheryl goodbye and ended the call. She seemed a bit down upon hearing about Sheryl's frustration with her current employers. Without Elmo around to insulate her from the record executives, Sheryl was more vulnerable than she led everyone to believe.

"_I hope Elmo gets back from vacation soon_..." Ranka thought to herself. She turned her attention back to the meal in front of her as she set the phone back down on the table. Nanase looked straight at her to inquire about the conversation that Ranka just had. "She's not coming, is she?" she said with a saddened look on her face. Ranka shook her head in response. "She's just as busy as we are. I'm sure she'd be here if she could..." Ranka replied. She decided to change the subject to their work. "Okay, so what's the story on the event scheduling?" Everyone at the table began to search for the documents containing the answer to her question. They were probably hiding somewhere under the boxes of food.

…

The newly-rebuilt Folmo Mall was teeming with activity. Hundreds of Zentrans and Humans went about their business, casually intermingling with each other in the public forum. Klan sat at a table on the food court, accompanied by Cathy, who was seated at her own table on a segregated concourse mid-level to Klan's perspective. "I appreciate you coming out to greet me at the starport," Klan said. Cathy grinned, but she was hiding her true intentions within herself. "Your thanks is not deserved," she said nervously. Klan looked at her with some confusion on her face.

Cathy continued, "I actually had some business to take care of. We received a communique from the fleet before you got back and I got wind of your arrival. Ozma sent me a message regarding your availability to take your own squadron and asked me for some help." Klan didn't seem to be phased about Cathy's admitted ulterior motive. She was more concerned about the prospect of leaving her beloved squadron. Cathy noticed Klan's distraught demeanor. "Are you not ready for your own command?" she asked.

Klan took a moment to flash through her memories of each member of her squadron. Most of them were centered around her current team of Nene, Will, and Cal. "It's not that, it's just... if I take my own squadron, that means I will have to leave behind the familiarity of the Quarter. I won't be able to protect them if I'm not there." "Oh, sweetheart, I can only imagine what must be going through your mind. Don't worry, though. Captain Wilder and my Ozma will make sure that no harm comes to them if you're not there," Cathy said. Klan knew that there was more specificity to her own statement, though. She didn't know how to properly convey that feeling to Cathy without giving her the wrong impression.

"Well, it's not just that, but... how do you handle not being near Ozma for so long? Isn't it hard to cope with your attachment to him when he's so far away?" Klan asked. She was asking questions that might help assuage her feeling of attachment to Nene and Will; but more importantly, to Cal. She's already done a lot of thinking about what he said to her. It was still too soon to make a decision, though. Now that there's the possibility of her leaving the Quarter for an opportunity to further her career, yet another slew of variables were being thrown into the formula.

Cathy laughed nervously as she answered Klan's question, "**God**, yes, its difficult. But when you find someone who you perceive as your equal, your partner; that love for them traverses all distances and boundaries. True love is supernatural; nothing can stop it." "I've heard from other people that long-distance relationships never work out. Were they just grossly misinformed?" Klan asked. "For the most part, yes. They don't work out because one or both people were not strong enough to handle the long periods of separation from each other. However, Ozma and I understood this before he left. I'm sure that he misses me as much as I miss him. The incredible thing about it, though, is that when he gets back, the reunion will be so very sweet." "Absence makes the heart fonder?" Klan asked again. Cathy looked up at Klan and confidently smiled. It looks like they both understood the same thing now.

Cathy's words of advice soothed Klan's uneasiness somewhat. She tuned out her worries and moved forward to the original intent of Cathy's visit. "Okay, so what do you have for me?" she asked. "I know Ozma told you to stay off-duty for a few days, but I'm going to override his orders. You won't be doing any flying for a couple of days, though. I've arranged a meeting with the captain of the ship you'd be serving on for tomorrow. Can you make it?" Klan thought about Cathy's proposal for a moment and figured a meeting couldn't hurt. That would give her a chance to get familiar with the notion of being a squadron commander before actually deciding to take the post. She confidently nodded and smiled at Cathy. She acknowledged Cathy's assistance in furthering her own career.

After visiting for awhile, Cathy left Klan to get back to the other items on her busy daily agenda. Klan had to respect the strength within Cathy to endure the long period of separation from her beloved Ozma. Perhaps it's just a state of mind one has to enter in order to cope with it effectively. Already, Klan was feeling a bit lonely from being so far from the people whom she regards as her second family. These next few days were certainly going to be full of tough decisions...

Before Klan could spend much time reflecting on her potential options, a vaguely-familiar Zentran took a seat at her table without even asking for permission. "I thought it was you... How come you never return my calls? I have to hunt you down in a public place like this to get to talk to you. It's been a long time, hasn't it, Klan?" he said. Klan glared at him with narrowed eyes, processing the audacity of this man's actions; not only did he rudely interrupt her alone time, but his statements annoyed her even more. She became extremely irritated at his presence and replied to his utterances, "Father..."

…

Cal and Nene watched Will as he sat on the other side of the mess hall, chatting away with the sniper pilot in Kanaria's Rabbit Team. No doubt, the two pilots were sharing stories of their kills and Will was taking in every bit of information he could to help him out on his next sortie. Cal glanced back at Nene at the same time she turned her gaze back towards him. She glared at him with the same accusing look she had given him the day before. He cradled his cup between his hands and looked down at the liquid inside the container, trying to avoid looking straight at her.

"So, you're in love with my sister, huh?" she said with a stern tone. Cal thought about how Nene didn't waste time getting right to the heart of the matter. He sighed and put his hands up to hold his head as he continued to stare straight down into the cup in front of him. "I know, I shouldn't have said anything... I must be going crazy." Her demeanor turned cheery again after she dropped the facade of seriousness. "No, you did the right thing. Amazingly, she has taken a bit of a liking to you. I wouldn't be so embarrassed, if I were you."

Cal slowly looked back up to Nene, following her encouraging words. "Well, I didn't tell her that just because I expected anything out of her. I told her because she asked me why I made such an effort to keep myself near her, despite all that's happened between us. At first, I didn't know what it was, but after doing a lot of thinking, it was the most thorough explanation." Nene smiled because she had a feeling that Cal would say something like that. "She told me that part too. You don't have to worry about her having any misconceptions about your feelings for her. I can confidently state that you are both on the same page regarding the matter."

Cal wasn't sure what that really meant, but he didn't want to ask Nene to elaborate. He was already struggling to talk about it because he just couldn't shake the feeling that he had exposed himself too much and left himself emotionally vulnerable to Klan. Even though they've become close, Cal has always had reservations about blindly chasing after someone he's interested in. The relationships he had early in life were nearly traumatic. He always seemed to find the women who had no problems taking advantage of his generous nature, and then leaving him for some other guy. He realized how lucky he'd been to have met Marie. At least she was one who appreciated all he did for her. Then, there was Klan.

She seemed pretty normal for a Meltran at first, but after experiencing her volatile temperament and desire to reign in his free spirit, doubts entered his mind as to whether or not this was a prudent course of action for him to take. Her dichotomic personality was unpredictable, at best. The nature of her duality was reflective of the vast difference in physical form she takes when she undergoes the micloning process. She seemed to be less tolerant of his constant prodding when she is in her miclone form; perhaps due to the insecurity she harbors from having the form of a child. When she's in her Meltran form, she uses her appearance to try to intimidate him and her self-confidence in her natural form empowers her desire to get whatever it is that she wants. Now that she was aware of his vulnerability to her, she could do anything she wanted with him, if she were so inclined.

"I wish I could tell you that your words fill me with confidence, Nene. I can't fight this feeling that I'm just setting myself up for some kind of humiliation. You know how she is... She's stopped at nothing to get what she wants from me before. I don't know if I could handle that, to be honest," Cal said as he returned his gaze back towards his drink. Nene was noticeably annoyed that Cal would say such a thing about her sister, but she realized that he did have some grounds to make a statement like that. Klan's stubbornness nearly caused his death not too long ago. However, this is not like Cal to concern himself so much with something that he claims to not require any reciprocation to. If that was true, he'd be playing this whole incident off like it didn't matter to him. Nene knows that his doubt and uncertainty meant that he really did mean what he told Klan, and he's worried about being turned down or taken advantage of.

"The first thing I'd do is quit pretending like it's no big thing to you," she said. Cal looked straight back up at her because he knew that she understood what he really felt inside. She continued with her advice, "I promise you that she won't hurt you regardless of what you two decide to do. I know my sister better than you can imagine and I can confidently tell you that she's put you on the top of her list of things that are important to her. You saw her risk her life to save yours just a couple of days ago. Does that not say enough to you about how important you are to her?" Cal looked off to the side as he sat back up in his chair and sighed. He didn't want to admit that Nene was right and sought to hide his interest in her words.

She got a little frustrated at his obstinate display. "Look at me, Cal," she said as she reached across the table and grabbed both of his hands. She laid them on the table and placed her hands on top of his to show him that she was genuinely sympathetic to his feelings of doubt and wanted to help him feel better. Cal looked at their hands and then back to her face as she continued with what she wanted to say. "You need to listen to me on this. I know Klan well and even though she seems harsh and cold on the outside, it's all just a defense mechanism to keep herself from being hurt again. You're one of the elite few who I can say has fought their way through to her true self inside. You'd be a fool to turn around and walk away at this point, after working so hard to get to where you are."

Cal heard and understood every word that Nene had just said to him, but one thing jumped out at him. "'Hurt again'?" he asked. Nene realized that she had strolled into a difficult subject, but in order to help Cal understand her sister better, it was probably necessary to proceed. Cal thought he knew what she was talking about, "Do you mean from that Michael fellow dying?" he asked. Nene quickly shook off his misconception. "No, that's an entirely different matter. He's one of the people who share your company on that 'list' of hers. She'll always love him in her own way." Nene let go of Cal's hands and leaned back into her chair with a sigh, in anticipation of the difficulty of explaining the subject at hand. "She has a general mistrust of men, due to certain... disappointments brought on in her early childhood." Cal's face displayed an intense interest in what he was about to be told while Nene continued with her story.

…

"I thought that ignoring your calls was enough of a statement to tell you that I'm not interested in talking to you," Klan angrily said at the man sitting in front of her. "Is it too much to ask to get to talk to my own daughter from time to time?" he said with emotionally-fueled intensity, "Your mother made damn sure that she kept me away from you during your childhood. Now that she doesn't control you anymore, I see that you've also made the decision to exclude me. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to not be able to see someone you love dearly?"

Klan became angered at his question. "As a matter of fact, **yes**. I seem to recall numerous broken promises from my father. Crying over my own birthday cake because my father didn't make it to my birthday each year, after promising he'd come? The man who wasn't there at the important milestones of my life? Having to ask my mother why my father doesn't love me? Yeah, I think I understand fully," she shot back at him. Her father dejectedly looked down at the table upon hearing about the traumatization he had caused her while she was growing up.

"Look, all I can say is that I'm sorry for not being there for you. I did my best to spend time with you, but I was going through a lot of problems at the time," he said. "You mean your raging alcoholism? It seemed like you loved drinking more than me, if I recall correctly," Klan responded. "I know, I know... but I've been sober for a couple of years, I swear it! I started calling you because I wanted to do whatever it takes to be a part of your life again." "So, now that you've conquered your petty addictions, you now have room to include me in your life again?"

His face remained indifferent. He didn't know how to answer her question. She'd cornered him and was ready to move in for the kill. "No, thanks. I already have a father," she said. Her words served as the shiv into his ribs. Enraged by her unwillingness to give him a chance, he angrily stood up to deliver his rebuttal. "**That** man? He doesn't deserve your mother, nor does he deserve your respect. I'm a better man than he could ever hope to be!" The ridiculousness of his response caused a little bit of laughter to sputter out of Klan's mouth as she prepared to answer.

Following her brief scoff, she sought to finish him off with her answer, "At least _he_ was there for me when I needed him. He loved me like I was his own daughter. At no point did he give any preference to Nene nor myself, despite her being his own flesh and blood. I may have taken out my frustrations with you on him, but he was strong enough to take my shit and keep on loving me for who I was. He was there at every major event in my life. He was the father I never had. You're nothing but a deadbeat who was unable to do what it takes to become a real 'man'. I see that some things still haven't changed. I may not be in a hurry to marry someone, but at least I can look forward to not having to carry your name anymore when that does happen." She stood up and began to walk away.

After a moment, his angered demeanor changed and he stopped her before she could leave. "Klan," he said as she slowly turned around to look back at him. He pulled his wallet out and began to dig around in one of its pockets. "I know that you couldn't tell, but I really did love you. Despite my lack of presence, you were always number one in my heart. I just had to at least tell you that. Perhaps in time, you can forgive me for my mistakes and we can move forward with our lives in some way." He pulled out a picture and placed it face down on the table. With reluctance, he removed his hand from on top of it and looked at her one more time before walking away. Klan could see his eyes were glazed over, but she did nothing to respond.

He quickly disappeared into the crowd of shoppers and Klan stared down at the picture. There was some writing on the back, but she didn't read it as she slowly reached down to pick it up. Upon turning it over, the image printed on the paper evoked an emotional response that she did not expect. Her throat tightened up as the memories resurfaced within herself. The picture showed a blue-haired child sitting on her father's lap. Both she and her father looked incredibly happy to be together and you couldn't tell that there was so much hate and animosity that exists between them in the present.

She could vividly remember the feelings she had when her father actually showed up to spend time with her. She missed those times so much and the memories of those times caused her eyes to water. She turned the picture over to read the captioning written on the backside. "Klan and her Daddy, 04/05/2045." The ink had turned slightly brown from the passage of time, indicating its genuineness. This picture had been held in his wallet for many years and appeared to have been handled countless times. Her father's gesture indicated to her that he was willing to sever his ties with her if she so desired. This picture was probably the only thing he had to remind himself of his daughter and he now left it in her possession.

…

"Don't you **ever** tell her about this conversation, do you understand?" Nene demanded, "Your life literally depends on it. If she doesn't kill you for bringing it up, I most definitely will!" Cal's eyes were as big as dinner plates as Nene's words struck him straight in the face with her serious intensity. He vehemently nodded to acknowledge, but asked a question that popped into his mind, "Then why did you just spend all of this time to tell me these things?" "Because I think that you are deserving of Klan's attention. I don't want to see you screw things up because you didn't fully understand where she's coming from. Whatever you two decide to do with each other, I know that you both will remain connected to each other in some way. I've watched her return from the brink of self-destruction because of you and your efforts. For that, both she and I will remain grateful to the fact that you worked so hard to help her deal with her issues. I know that she's affected you in more ways than I can imagine too, am I right?"

Cal recomposed himself and smiled in response. They both shared a quiet moment of agreement with each other until Will returned to the table and took a seat next to Nene. "Hey... Hey! **Hey**! I see what you two are doing over here. I thought I told you to get your own girlfriend, Cal!" he jokingly said as he pulled her closer to himself with his arms. Nene just responded with a satisfied grin as she let her body be moved in whatever direction he chose for her. Cal smiled at them both as he took a drink from his cup. His mind began to imagine what it would be like if he were in Will's position and Klan was in Nene's...

Jen also sat in the mess hall to eat her meal, but she was too distracted to notice that Cal was just a few tables over. She was busy spending her time exploring the personality of another curious individual sitting across from her. Commander Ortiz was telling her some stories of his days as a green flight control officer; how his inexperience led him to make embarrassing mistakes back then. She held onto his every word, seeing as how she had once walked that same path so long ago. "Isn't it always great that we can look back on ourselves in the past and laugh at the silly things we'd done?" she asked. Commander Ortiz chuckled as he nodded.

"My point is that even though the job may be new to us and we'll make mistakes from time to time, you will just get better with experience to the point where you can look back at the past and laugh them off. Don't be apprehensive to take on the new responsibilities of your new post. Just dig your feet in and get ready for anything," he said with confidence. Jen embraced her cup with both of her hands as she held it in front of her face. She smiled back at Ortiz before taking a sip. She turned her attention back to the notepad that was sitting on the table next to her. "Okay, so I'll have these modules read before tomorrow's assessment test. Is there anything else I need to do in preparation?" she asked.

The focus she had put into her training seemed to blind her to everything else that was going on around her. Suddenly, Cal didn't seem to mean that much to her. Her feelings for him had taken a backseat to her career, but she was also becoming aware of the interest she was showing in Commander Ortiz. Perhaps this is what Bobby meant by being with someone who walks the same path of life as she does. At least Ortiz won't be constantly looking up at the sky when she's trying to garner his attention. He seems genuinely interested in pushing her to the next level in her career. Does that also mean that he's interested in her in "other" ways?

The memory of seeing Monica sitting in the Captain's chair briefly popped back into her mind. That was definitely something she'd love to try sometime soon. At that very moment, Monica was taking a seat back into that chair while Captain Wilder stood next to her. It was officially time for her to take her first shift as a bridge commander, without the supervision of one of her superiors. She savored the feeling of the chair and sighed in relief when she finally came to rest.

"I know you'll do just fine, Monica. Just remember that you can give me a call if you have any questions or anything important comes up," Captain Wilder said as he removed his hat. "I'll be fine, Jeffrey. Go get some rest and I'll see you when you wake up," she responded. He grinned at her overconfidence, assured that she'd end up calling him over some menial operational procedure at some point during his off-duty time. She waited for him to leave the bridge before issuing her first orders. "Third shift starts now. Please send your status reports to me and set the bridge lights a little lower." She began to punch something into her console as the bridge crew acknowledged her orders. The lights dimmed a bit, enhancing the glow of the active screens and displays throughout the bridge. Monica turned her gaze towards outer space as if she was moving the ship forward with telekinesis; she'd seen this look from Captain Wilder a hundred times and imitated it well.

…

Klan stood at the front door of a rather large house. The yard had been well-cared for and there was a group of trees planted at every corner. From the perspective of a Zentran, the fully-grown trees were mere bushes. The decorative mailbox dwarfed the group of birds perched on top of it and the name of the family residing at the house was written on it, "Rora". She looked up to the sky as she made sure that she was comfortable with being there at that time. Looking back in front of her, she saw more birds sitting on the knocker. Their incessant chirping seemed to invite her to make her presence known. They parted in all directions as she reached forward with her hand to grab the knocker.

Following her knock, the birds began to return to their former perch on the door, but some of them chose to land on her retracting hand. She extended her finger to give them a better place to sit and began to stare at them with a smile. It was as if they could sense her rarely-seen gentle nature. Memories of her childhood came to surface, reminded by the birds on her finger. She used to love playing in the forest area with Michael back on Island-3 when they were very young. They would frequently spend their time feeding the thousands of birds that resided there. Klan always made it a game to see how many birds she could coerce into landing on her. It always made Michael laugh at the image of her covered by hundreds of their avian friends.

As soon as she could hear someone approaching from the other side of the door, she dropped her hand back to her side. The birds flew off to find a more stable place to stand. The door opened to reveal a tall, blue-haired Meltran. Even though the color of her hair had faded a bit from age, she still looked exuberant and lively as she stood in front of Klan with a shocked look on her face. "Hi, Mom," Klan sheepishly said with an embarrassed smile. Her mother practically jumped into Klan's arms from the joy of seeing her daughter again. "Klan! Oh my, It's so good to see you! I've missed you so much!" she exclaimed. She grabbed Klan's arm and yanked her inside before slamming the door shut. "Come in! Come in! We have a lot to catch up on, don't we?" Even though she was glad to be in the company of her mother once more, Klan was still mortified that she had done little to maintain any kind of relationship after leaving home a few years ago. Now was the beginning of her quest to rebuild the family relationships she's long ignored since she began living on her own.


	25. Bridges

A/N: Alright, I convinced myself to post this chapter, despite not having finished Chapter 30 yet on my end. I finished 29 two days ago and I'm 1/3 done with 30. Fortunately, I have a few days off from work while I'm in between projects, but I have not yet gotten an ISP. I should have time to get a lot of writing done, but I won't be able to post whenever I want =o)

Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy! (06/09/10)

* * *

It was still a bit early in the morning when Cal was roaming the halls, busily reading the last of his training module from the tablet in his hand. The cup of hot coffee in his other hand emitted a constant strand of steam that flowed behind him while he walked the halls. He was too immersed into his reading to notice the upcoming hall intersection; and the danger of running into someone if you're not paying attention.

Sure enough, the coincidental happened, and he plowed into an innocent shipmate who happened to be on a path that crossed his. Several papers and folders went in every direction, but Cal was more focused on keeping the scalding hot coffee from getting onto sensitive skin and clean uniform. Using the dexterity and precision required of a pilot, he managed to catch the little bit of coffee that had splashed up and out of the cup by delicately whipping the container around in just the right motion. "Ohh! Did you see that?" he exclaimed as he pointed at his cup and looked for a reaction from the unfortunate individual who now sat on the ground. His heart jumped as he realized who he had just knocked down due to his carelessness.

"Jen! I'm so sorry about that! Are you okay?" he asked as he reached his hand down to help her get back up. "I bet your toast lands jelly-side up too, doesn't it?" she sarcastically asked. Her casual statement referenced the enormous amount of luck it required to catch all of that coffee without spilling much more than a couple of drops. Cal laughed as he pulled her back up to her feet, "Yeah, that was pretty lucky, huh? Again, I'm sorry about that. I was just busy reading. I should have been more careful." They both began to bend over to pick up all of the papers that Jen had dropped. Cal's tablet had bounced a few feet away from where he stood.

"Well, I guess I _did_ come around that corner too fast. It's partially my fault, too," Jen admitted with a bit of a blush. "No, no... All my fault," Cal continued to confess. Jen started to cradle the collection of papers with both of her arms. They both stood back up at the same time and Cal began to stuff his share of papers on top of the set that Jen was holding. She was a little coy that Cal was so quick to take the blame for their little mishap. She turned a bit more red in the cheeks as Cal looked straight into her eyes with a smile. A moment of silence hung in the air between them while they searched for something to say to each other. They'd kind of ignored each other for the last few days, since they were so busy with their own things.

Cal reached behind his head to scratch his scalp in a gesture that indicated his discomfort and embarrassment over the collision between the two. "So, um... how are things? Have you started your training yet?" Jen replied by shaking the papers cradled in her arms and speaking, "Yep! There certainly is a lot to have to get through to go to the next rank. What were you reading, anyways?" Cal laughed at the coincidence of the situation. "Uh... heh heh... It's a training module. Commander Lee wants me to be ready to take my own team if the need should arise." Even though it was mostly Klan who was pushing him to promote, he didn't want to mention her to Jen. As a guy, it's usually a good idea to not talk about other women when you're talking to someone who has feelings for you. Yes, it's petty jealousy that frequently comes out in response, but it's just best to avoid stirring up any trouble, if at all possible.

Jen's reaction was filled with excitement, "That's just wonderful! See, I told you that you would make so much more out of yourself. You're on your way to big things, I can tell!" "Um, I guess... Thanks." Cal said as he tried to figure out a way to accept her compliment with poise. He walked over to finally pick up his tablet, which was still lying on the ground a few feet away. Jen began to think about how she's been so distracted, that she hasn't been wondering when he was going to get back to her with his answer. She was concerned that her new-found commitment to the advancement of her career was going to prevent her from pursuing his attention much further. Perhaps it was time to make a decision on their relationship while there was still time to change one's mind about things. "I can't believe we haven't even talked in a few days. We just can't allow this to go on!" she jovially said.

For a moment, Cal thought she was being literal about their relationship, but he realized that she was just being as cheery as she always is. He smiled as he responded, "Well, I have a few things to take care of today, but I can text you later to see when it's a good time to grab a bite to eat together or something. Cool?" Jen was glad that she didn't have to press Cal for some of his time. At least this time, he was willing to make an effort to arrange a meeting between them. Jen nodded with enthusiasm at his proposal. They bid each other goodbye and went about their business.

Even though she had shown a lot of anticipation for their next meeting, Jen still worried about the impending outcome of their conversation that was to take place then. From her current point of view, everything in front of her involved a major decision to have to make. Any wrong turns could lead to her reaching a dead-end of sorts, or endlessly traveling in circles. She somewhat envied Cal's situation, which to her, seemed like a straight path. She was unaware of any of the complications that haunted his mind every time he wasn't focused on the task at hand. He just did a good job of not showing it, and he also had to do a little bit of truth-bending to keep her or anyone else he's talking to from finding out about his deepest concerns. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't help but acknowledge that Nene was right about him. His main concern was whether or not his relationship with Klan would change when she returned to the ship in a few days.

…

"So, I heard through the grapevine that you're going to be getting your own squadron soon. Are you excited?" Klan's mother sat on a stool at one end of the island countertop in the middle of the kitchen, with a cup of tea in her hand. It seems that she kept at least a few of her old habits from her career in the NUNS, as it was the unwritten law for ship commanders to have a fond love of hot tea. Klan sat on the other end of the countertop with a cup of her own. She cradled it with both of her hands as it sat on the counter and almost had the same posture as Cal did when Nene was giving him a talking-to some millions of miles away.

"I am looking forward to the opportunity, but it's such a big change. I've spent my entire piloting career in Skull Squadron, both as an SMS employee and an NUNS pilot. If I take my own squadron, that means I'll be leaving everything I care for behind and will be entering an unfamiliar environment," she replied. Her mother tilted her head slightly to the side, wondering how her daughter had somehow formed so many close relationships with mere miclones. She suddenly remembered that she had heard about the passing of Klan's dear childhood friend, Michael. In order to not spoil the moment, she decided not to mention it in their conversation.

"You can't let your relationships hold you back _too_ much, dear. Your best friends will always stay in contact with you, no matter where you go. They'll support you in whatever decision you make for yourself; especially when you both understand that it's for the best," she said. A look of admiration found its way onto her face as she continued, "I'm so proud of your success in the NUNS. You're going to be a squadron commander very soon and you're still so young. It took me a lot longer to reach that rank when I was your age..." Klan's mother began to look towards the ceiling as she reminisced about her younger days.

Klan had begun to blush a little bit at her mother's doting. "Mom! I'm just doing my job the best that I can. It's really nothing to be _that_ proud of." "Try not to be so modest, dear. You really have accomplished a lot in your life so far and you've got so much time left to fulfill your dreams. Once you get to where you want to be in your career, then you can slow things down a bit and focus on other important issues in your life," her mother said as she panned her eyes around the room, indicating that she was referring to family life.

The subject of family life caused Klan to switch subjects in her mind. There was a question that had been boring a hole through her skull all day. "Mom, what did you ever see in my father?" she asked, quite bluntly. Her mother was taken aback at the suddenness of Klan's question. "Wh- Why do you ask that?" Klan looked away with a sense of nonchalance. "I ran into him at the Folmo Mall today. He was just as aggravating as ever, but he seemed to show a benevolent interest in re-entering my life, for some reason. I really don't know why I should even give him a chance after so much disappointment in the past."

Klan's mother took a long sip of her tea to give herself time to think out an answer and to process what could possibly be going through her daughter's and her former lover's mind right now. "Well, he seemed to be everything that I wanted at the time. We had a lot in common and he seemed like he'd make a great father. However, we sometimes have a poor sense of judgment in our youth. After your birth, it was if he freaked out at the notion of being a father. He tried very hard for a few years, but he began to spend less time with us and more time at the local watering hole. Once I realized that having him in your life was more damaging than helpful, I told him to stay away from us until he could understand what it means to be a father. After seeing how much he kept hurting your feelings and being such a disappointment as a father, I couldn't stand by and let it continue. I made the decision because I couldn't stand watching you get hurt over and over again."

Her mother's explanation was everything that Klan had expected it to be. Even though there was no new information to glean from it, Klan wanted to hear the words come from her mother's mouth to reassure her that she was in the right when it came to how she treated the "relationship" with her father. "Hmm... Well, he seemed offended that I didn't want to have anything to do with him. We argued for a moment, but he quickly gave up and left me with this," Klan said as she reached into one of the pockets in her SMS jacket and placed the picture on the table in front of her mother. The disparity between Klan's appearance in front of her in the kitchen and the one in the picture was enough to send her mother's thoughts reeling into the past.

"You were such a beautiful child then... and now you've grown up into a beautiful woman. I know you've been busy with your career, but I'll bet you've been getting a lot of attention from the boys, huh? Have you found anyone you like yet?" her mother asked. It was the typical mushy nosiness that many mothers feel compelled to use when it comes to matters of love. Klan's mind immediately rushed to the memory of Michael. She had never told anyone of her feelings for him until that fateful day on Island-1. With a heavy heart, she sighed as she answered, "Well, I had fallen in love with Michael after he joined SMS... but I waited too long to tell him. He was killed a few months ago during a Vajra attack right after I told him how I felt. His last words were how he loved me too." Klan's throat tightened up a bit in preparation to cry, but the tears didn't quite come. For some reason, it didn't hurt so much to talk about it this time.

Her mother was completely surprised and emotionally touched at the same time. Her face resembled a patchwork of emotion as her mind tried to output the proper reaction to the different feelings brewing within herself upon hearing her daughter's announcement. "Oh my God, Klan... I'm so sorry! I heard that he had been killed, but I had no idea..." she stopped talking because she was losing control of her voice. She got up to hold Klan and console her, but Klan didn't seem to need the attention. "I know, Mom. It was such a terrible shock to my emotions. It's taken months to get back to normal, but I think I'm going to be okay now," she said with confidence.

Her mother still had to hold her daughter close to her body. A soothing kiss on her blue-haired head was the doctor's prescription to take away the pain. Klan quickly hugged her mother and gently brushed her away, taking care to be as respectful as possible while doing it. "Thanks, Mom. I'll be okay, I promise." Klan's mother went and sat back down in her chair, still feeling a bit of sympathy for her daughter's plight. She was rather uncomfortably sitting on the stool as she prepared to ask a bit of a controversial question.

"Michael was a good kid, but... falling in love with a miclone? Are you sure that's what you want? There's lots of good Zentraedi men out there who I'm sure would be deserving of your love. I know you serve on a ship of miclones, but that doesn't mean you have to restrict your field to them," she asked. Klan was somewhat surprised at the question, but her mother has always been extremely proud of their pure Zentraedi heritage. She sat up in a posture that spoke of an impending talking-to. "Mom! I know you served on a miclone ship throughout your career. You mean to tell me that you didn't think that any of them were worth your time?" "Well, Humans are a noble race of people, but I just felt that it was my duty to carry on our pure Zentraedi heritage. I never considered it, to be honest."

Klan wanted to shake her head at her mother's closed-mindedness, but she realized that at least her mother had a halfway-decent reason for her choice. "Honestly, Mom, I don't feel the same way that you do. We're all one race, if you ask me. We were forged from the same genesis, even though our races had traveled such diverging paths. I'm proud of my Zentraedi heritage, but I will treat Humans as my own brothers and sisters." She leaned forward and put on a look of seriousness. "If you ask me, there is a certain strength of spirit that Humans carry within them that I can't help but respect. The same strength of spirit that enabled them to turn our ancestors' hearts away from war and towards a desire to live in peace alongside Humans. I see that very same strength every day in some of the miclones I work with... and I can't help but feel attracted to it."

Klan's mother fully understood her daughter's motives, but she just couldn't help to shake the notion of maintaining that racial purity. "Well, at least there's Nene to carry on the bloodline..." Klan tried not to react the the thoughtlessness of her mother's words. She was sure that she meant nothing by it, but it was still a bit insensitive. Klan shook it off and looked up at the ceiling to indicate her nonchalance before answering her mother's statement, "Yeah, about Nene..."

…

Cal sat in his bird in the hangar of the Quarter while he waited for his operations window to arrive. He casually watched the interactions between Nene and Will on the other side of the hangar. Will stood on one of the catwalks near Nene's Queadluun while she comfortably leaned against the wall to speak with him. The disparity between their sizes didn't seem to stop them from enjoying each others company. Cal couldn't help but envy Will, even if it was just a little bit. For Cal, it's been what seems like a long time since he's been loved by another whom he calls his own, but he wondered if that might change sometime soon. Subconsciously, he projected his loneliness towards Will and Nene, hoping that they'd make an effort to include him in some of their activities together. It was a selfish endeavor, though. He remembered that there was at least one other person currently on the ship who'd gladly keep him company if he asked them to.

The clock in his cockpit chimed when it reached the time for them to deploy. Nene and Will hurried into their vehicles while Cal put his helmet on and closed the canopy before he began to taxi towards the elevator. Jen's voice chattered over the comm line as she issued their deployment authorizations and flight trajectories out of the Quarter's aerospace. Cal reminded himself that she was the person who would drop everything for him if he needed her, but right now was the beginning of another mission. He worked to focus his mind on the job at hand as his RVF taxied to the hangar elevator for a launch.

Their assignment for this sortie was to attach to a squadron from another ship and help them eradicate a particularly nasty Vajra nest that had successfully defended itself from several attacks. Each pilot in Pixie Team was thrilled at the opportunity that lay in front of them to score up some valuable kills. Will was particularly psyched to try out some of the tips that he had gleaned from the sniper pilot that was in Rabbit Team. For Cal, though, he was more concerned about his lack of a partner to pair up with, since Klan was millions of miles away at the moment.

Nene opened up a channel to her team before they were due to arrive at the rendezvous point, "Guys, I know we're still short by one pilot, but let's make sure we do our best to cover each others backs out there. We're not supposed to engage the Vajra head-on here, but we've been asked to give supporting fire to Triton Squadron while they do their business. I'll stay out in front while you protect Will, Cal. He'll probably be doing most of the shooting, unless we get ambushed, so keep an eye on him for me, okay?" There was no way Cal was going to let his good friend out of his sight, especially since Nene depended on him to keep her beloved alive. "Yes'm!" he replied. The trio of pilots boosted off towards their destination while in formation.

…

Klan's mother was still in disbelief that her daughters had both given their hearts to miclones. She sighed as she struggled to convey her thoughts, "Well, before you go off making any more hasty decisions, maybe you should spend time serving on one of the new Zentraedi ships. I'm sure there are some decent Zentrans out there who are deserving of your attention." Klan was not really in the mood to tolerate her mother's meddling in her affairs.

During the pregnant pause between them, they could hear the latch on the front door unlocking. Klan's heart skipped a beat from anticipation because she knew it could only be one person. Several moments passed by as they listened to the commotion in the next room over. The sound of shuffling feet began to creep closer until Klan's mother announced her current position, "I'm in here, Korstan!"

He emerged from behind the wall that separated the kitchen from the entryway. His stature was a bit on the short side and his clothes were well-worn from a hard day's work. Several spots of grease stained his slightly leathery skin. Age was not too kind to his physical appearance, but like his wife, he still shone with youthful exuberance. It was a surprise to see two blue-haired Meltrans sitting in the kitchen. One Meltran he called his darling "wife" and the other was his estranged step-daughter, whom he had raised as his own for nearly fifteen years.

He snapped out of his momentary stupor at the sight of both Meltrans and reacted to seeing Klan for the first time in almost three years. "Klan! I'm so glad to see you! How have you been, kiddo?" He rushed over and hugged her with one arm. Even though she was still sitting on the kitchen stool, his head did not reach much higher than hers. "I've been doing much better lately. I returned to Aimo for a few days and I figured I'd drop in for a visit. The new house is fantastic!" she said as she briefly looked around herself at her surroundings. He puffed his chest out with pride when he responded, "Yep! Marjel and I are very happy with our life here on Aimo. We just wish you'd visit more often!" He walked around the counter to put his arm around his wife.

He spent a few moments taking in the joy that permeated the room before he spoke again, "Well, I hate to make my appearance short, but I am filthy as hell. I'm going to head upstairs and take a shower." He leaned forward and kissed his wife on the cheek before he left the room. Klan and her mother smiled as they watched him leave the room, a bit awed at the charisma that practically bled from his pores.

Yet another semi-personal question came to Klan's mind, inspired by the interactions that just took place. "Mom, why did you choose to marry Korstan?" Again, Marjel was surprised at the boldness of the question. "My, Klan... you sure are asking a lot of serious questions. Are you sure you're okay?" Klan nodded in response, but waited for her mother to continue. Seeing that she was not going to get anything more than that nod, Marjel began to answer her daughter's question. "It's hard to explain, really... I was always attracted to a different kind of man, but something about him kept me curious. We first met in the service, but I was a commander and he was just one of the grease monkeys who worked in the hangar."

Klan began to make herself more comfortable. Somehow, the words of her mother's story seemed to strike a chord within her mind, as if she could relate. Marjel continued with her explanation, "At first, his advances were a bit repulsive to me. I always saw myself attracted to a tall, handsome Zentran. I mean, Korstan isn't that bad-looking, but whenever I'd see him, he was always covered in grease and had cuts and calloused hands. Plus, he was a lot shorter than me; I inherited my father's height and I had always pictured myself being with someone like my father. I guess that's why I was attracted to tall men."

Already, Klan was formulating a rebuttal to her mother's concerns over her choice to associate with miclones. Each word her mother spoke was another piece to fit into the puzzle. "I kept turning him down every time he would ask me out, but he just kept on coming back for more. He was determined to prove his worth to me, no matter how much I denied him. Eventually, I just caved in and gave him that chance..." She shrugged as she finished her story, "And here we are, still together after so long. We've successfully raised two daughters and we are enjoying life. I'm retired, but he still works because he loves to fix things. When I left the service, he also quit the NUNS and got a job working in the shipyards. I wish he'd retire too, but when I see how happy he is when he comes home from work, it fills me with so much joy."

Klan began to chuckle as an amusing thought entered her mind for a moment. "What's so funny?" her mother asked. "I just think that it's funny how even though he's the shortest of us, his own daughter is the tallest. How did that work out in the genetics?" Marjel rolled her eyes and smiled sheepishly before she took a sip of her tea. Klan quickly reverted back to the subject at hand, "You still didn't answer my question, though, Mom." "Oh... yeah, I guess I missed that part, huh? Well, I said that it's hard to explain, but... there's something about that stubbornness, the unwavering determination to get what he wants that really intrigued me."

Immediately, Klan was reminded of Cal and how he was so obstinate when it came to keeping himself close to her. When she sees how happy her mother and step-father are together, it kind of made her curious as to whether or not this was possible. Klan was very much like her mother; Cal resembled her step-father, including the fact that Cal is a lot smaller than she is. "_No way... it's just mere coincidence_," she thought to herself. Even though she tried to write it off, something inside of her still nagged her about the truth.

"I couldn't help but find his confidence and resolve attractive to me. That's why I married him and we couldn't be happier," Marjel said. Klan realized that this was the icing on the cake when it came to her rebuttal. "See, Mom? Then you understand why I chose to love Michael. Just because he was a miclone, it didn't mean that I didn't see past his physical appearance just like you did with Korstan." Something clicked in Marjel's head upon hearing her daughter's statement. She tried to deny any correlation between the two instances, "But that's not the same thing, sweetie!" "Yes it is, Mom! You were able to look past the fact that he didn't physically match your picture of an ideal man and saw what kind of person he is on the inside," Klan snapped.

She had made her point, and regardless of what her mother said from this point wouldn't really matter. Klan felt a little bad that she had to put her foot down on her mother's stance on the issue, so she sought to change the subject a bit. "Well, I'm glad you married him, Mom," she said with a sincere smile. Marjel immediately shook the look of frustration away from her face and glanced back at her daughter with a look of gratification for the words of approval. Klan looked back down into her cup as she tried hard to admit something that's been bothering her for some time.

"Honestly, I feel so terrible about how I treated Korstan while he tried to exercise such patience with me when I was growing up. It looks like he needed every ounce of his conviction and determination to not lose his cool. I want to tell him how much I appreciate everything he's done for me, despite not being my biological father. However, I am too mortified to say anything to him about it," she said. Marjel reached across the counter and placed her hand on Klan's. "He loved you like you were his own daughter right from the start. When he first met you when you were a baby, he grew attached to you so quickly. It was a big reason why we didn't wait very long to conceive Nene. He wanted the chance to start from the beginning with one of his own while continuing to raise you in the best way he knew how."

Even though Klan's father had failed her so many times in the past, she never took the time to appreciate the efforts of her step-father to step in as the patriarchal figure for her. Because of her real father, she had held resentment towards other adult males and that feeling still remained throughout her adult life... until now. She had forgotten that there was a man who was there for her when she needed him while growing up, and he was upstairs getting cleaned up at that very moment. She had spent her childhood resenting Korstan just because he was the same gender as her own father.

Michael was the only exception to her default behavior, because of their lifelong friendship. However, Klan never fully trusted other males around her and she took out her "daddy issues" on them. This default behavior is what has kept her from opening herself up to anyone else and is also the reason she has alienated Korstan, and treated Cal the way she did before their final reconciliation on the Zentraedi medical frigate. It's strange to her, how the significant people in her life seem to intersect each other in some way or another. She wouldn't be at her mother's house, seeking to reconcile the relationship with her step-father, if it wasn't for Cal. Even when he's not even trying to, he's been teaching her the lessons she never voluntarily grasped for herself.

To a lesser extent, Ozma has very much been her mentor and even though she respects him, she would sometimes take out her frustrations on him. His inner strength allowed him to take anything she could throw at him and summarily put her back into her place with little more than a flinch. She admired his panache, his charisma, and his ability to teach her the lessons she needs to become a squadron commander some day. That day was surely to come soon.

…

The fury of the Vajra hive was deserving of the complement of NUNS fighters currently engaged with it. An entire squadron, plus Pixie Team, had their hands full in trying to sanitize the area of this dangerous menace. Even though they were supposed to only be providing supporting fire, Nene had taken it upon herself to engage the defending swarm personally. She had left Will behind, entrusting Cal to keep him safe for her. Triton Squadron's commander was not terribly keen to the idea that a mere first lieutenant was not quite following orders.

"Pixie Team, I thought that you were only supposed to be supporting us, not engaging in the fight!" he barked. "I'm begging your pardon, Sir, but these bugs are no laughing matter. I left my sniper and RVF back to provide the long-range cover while I am taking advantage of my strengths as a close-range attacker. I felt that this was the best way to deploy the strengths of my team," Nene replied. As if to put an exclamation point onto her statement, two sniper rounds passed nearby the commander's battroid and each hit a separate Vajra drone that had been closing in to his position.

Realizing that Nene's decision was plausible, perhaps an even better decision than his, he clicked his tongue in disapproval while he transformed to fighter mode and sped away towards another target. Without a word in response, he left Nene to do whatever she wished. A gratified smile found its way onto her face as she re-engaged in the fight. "_Your timing couldn't have been better, Will_," she thought to herself. Another drone fell to her dog-fighting prowess as she turned her gaze towards Will and Cal several kilometers away.

Cal's battroid used one hand to run its combat knife through a fighter-drone, while he was being grappled by a mecha-drone. Before the mecha-drone could grab his RVF with its other claw, Cal used his knife to dismember the restraining claw and free himself from its grip. He pushed off of the drone with the battroid's legs while its claw still tightly held onto him, despite being severed from the rest of its body. The drone seemed to react in what could best be described as "pain", and it was enough of a distraction for Cal to draw his RVF's gunpod and place several rounds through its protective husk.

The explosions produced from the drones' deaths did little to phase Cal's concentration as he casually removed the Vajra appendage that was still stuck to him. "You're all clear, Will. I even got a souvenir for ya!" he said, tossing the dismembered claw towards Will's position. Will brushed the claw away from him so it wouldn't affect his next shot, "No thanks, I'm busy..." He was scanning the battle area for his next sure target when he came upon the nest's position.

"There it is!" he exclaimed. He used the 25G's enhanced optical zoom features to get a good look inside of the cavern where the nest was located. In it, he could see that there were some uninvited guests awaiting the first unfortunate NUNS pilot who strayed too close, just like what had happened to Cal several days before. "I see you, asshole...!" he casually remarked. Will zeroed in on his target and pulled the trigger. The sniper round barreled through the expansive distance at a remarkable speed. Inside of the VF-27's cockpit, the pilot was alerted to an incoming projectile by their computer, but could not react in time to avoid getting hit. The sniper round punched a gaping hole right through the battroid's chest, instantly killing the pilot and completely destroying the Valkyrie.

"Got him!" Will exclaimed. "You're shitting me! No way you just killed a 27!" Cal yelled with a hint of jealousy in his voice. Will confidently replayed the video of his kill through the comm lines to Cal's cockpit. "I have to admit, you're the real deal," Cal said. The two pilots fist-bumped each other with their battroid's hands. Cal was a little concerned that Will was beginning to outshine him as an effective VF pilot, but he realized that maybe it was only because his "partner" wasn't with them at the time. At least he was finding something to kill every sortie they flew without Klan. It should be enough to keep him preoccupied until she returns.

…

Marjel had left Klan alone in the kitchen while she went upstairs to "check on something". The vagueness of her excuse betrayed the ulterior motive hidden within, but Klan had come to expect this kind of behavior from her mother. She patiently waited for whatever it was that her mother was up to. The wait was a good opportunity for her to rehash the events that had occurred around her during the course of the day. However, there was still one place that she wanted to go before the day was through. Now, if only she could slither her way out of her mother's house before someone goes and makes her stay for dinner...

Korstan hastily entered the kitchen from around the corner, stumbling as if he had been pushed into the room. The innocent look on his face made it seem like he was being manipulated by an outside force. He noticed Klan watching his behavior and quickly changed his demeanor to a more casual one. He walked up to the countertop that Klan was sitting at, took a seat, and dropped an aging cardboard box on the surface. Klan had seen that box many times before in the past, but she couldn't remember the significance of it at the moment.

"Your mother and I have been wanting to give this to you, since you haven't been visiting much lately. Luckily, she had the foresight to have most of our valuables stored on Island-1 before our home on Island-3 was destroyed by that dimension-eater bomb," he said. He removed the top of the box to reveal the contents inside. There were scores of old photographs from Klan's childhood, and many of them included members of their family with her in various poses. Seeing as how their old house and belongings had been swallowed up by a super-dimensional rift, this box had exponentially grown in sentimental value.

Klan and Korstan enjoyed some time together going over their old memories as they flipped through several old photographs. Marjel spied on them from the other room and found the image of the two of them leaning inwards towards each other while they looked at pictures to be emotionally touching. Her oldest daughter seemed so different than the last time she laid eyes on her. "_She's grown up so much in three years. My little girl is now a woman_," she thought to herself with a sentimental smile.

After several minutes of walking down "Memory Lane", Klan looked back up at Korstan to say something that's been on her mind the entire time she's been visiting. "Korstan, I just want to apologize," she simply said. He was a little confused as to why those words came out of her mouth. "For what?" "I never appreciated you for everything you did for me while I was growing up. Instead, I took out my anger on you because of my own father. You didn't deserve the way I treated you and I feel so terrible for the grief I caused you all those years," Klan said with sincerity in her eyes. Korstan didn't want to admit that it was quite stressful to him, but he had to acknowledge her apology. "Oh, you weren't _that_ bad, kiddo. I knew what I was getting into when I married your mother, so I never thought negatively of you because of any unfair treatment I got out of you."

Klan knew he was playing it off as nothing. "Oh, come on. I was nothing but a nightmare to you and I know that sometimes you wanted to just throw your hands up and give up on me. I'm glad that you didn't, though. As I've recently come to realize, you're one of the few men in my life who really were good to me. I've never actually sat down and admitted it to myself or to them until now." Korstan knew that his bluff had been called, but he was more overwhelmed by the sincerity of Klan's apology. "Sweetie, you don't have to do this, but thanks anyways," he said as he leaned over to hug her.

It appears that Klan is making progress in dealing with her inner demons. With each step made in the right direction, she sees herself returning to a more normal state of mind. Perhaps now, she won't be so hasty to judge people and quickly alienate them like she's been doing for so long now. Only time will tell how her personality will change. It will probably get better, but there's always the outside chance of a relapse. Such a result will depend on the manner of which her environment treats her. For now, she only has to look forward to a big meeting tomorrow with someone who could potentially become her new commanding officer.

Among the planetoids in the Kihnes Asteroid Belt, the rest of Pixie Team seems to be doing well without their commanding officer. However, it seems that Cal is showing signs of returning back to his old ways; his ego is starting to get the best of him because of Will's success as a pilot. Seeing Will's flying skills flourish to the point where Cal feels a bit threatened, and seeing Will and Nene becoming so close is starting to stoke a bit of jealousy within him. While Klan is eliminating her vices one by one, Cal seems to be restoring his. Will and Nene are simply being themselves and it seems to be rubbing Cal the wrong way. If he's not careful, he could put some friendships in jeopardy with his old conceited ways.


	26. Severance

A/N: Well, Chapter 31 didn't take me long to write. Here's 26 to whet your appetites. I went back to clean up some old author's notes from previous chapters and noticed that I had accidentally left the first few chapters written in the present tense. I had decided a few chapters in that I would write the rest of the story in past tense, as it is much easier to do. I thought that I had gone back and cleaned up the old chapters to put them in line with the proper tense, but I guess I was wrong. I may end up spending the next bit of time editing and cleaning up the old stuff before I move on to write Chapter 32. I should be able to get it written by the end of this week, and if I do, that means that I can post Chapter 27 for you guys.

Also, I will be on vacation from June 19th through the 25th to attend my father's third wedding... third time's a charm, I know... During that time, I don't know if I will have any opportunity to do any writing or posting. Just a head's up on that issue. Once I get back, I should be back into the swing of things. (06/13/10)

* * *

At first, Will thought he was going to be able to eat his dinner with Cal and Nene as usual, but the words of congratulations from the occasional passing pilot began to go to his head. While Nene couldn't be happier for him, Cal was still letting his sense of envy get the best of him. For reasons he couldn't understand, he felt like he should be the one with the VF-27 kill under his belt, not Will. Fortunately, he was able to put a bit of that jealousy behind him when he remembered the adulation he got from his shipmates back when he defeated Klan in the simulated combat scenarios. He had his time, now he should give some of that spotlight time to his deserving roommate.

Reminded of Klan by his thoughts of her, he began to wonder what she was up to back on Aimo. Without her around, each day was far less eventful for him. He started to ponder her planet-side activities when he was snapped out of his spaced-out state. "Cal!" Nene exclaimed. He jumped a bit because he was startled by her voice. "Wh- What?" he stammered. "Will's been trying to talk to you!" Cal turned his head towards Will, "Huh?" Will looked at Nene with a confused look before turning back to Cal to ask his question. "What the hell's the matter with you? You've been quiet this whole time and you look like you're lost in some other dimension. What are you thinking about?" he asked. Cal quickly took a bite of food to delay having to answer the question for a bit. There was no way he could tell Will about what was going through his mind right now; both his thoughts of jealousy over Will's 27 kill and his thoughts of the whereabouts of their team leader.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it," Cal answered as he involuntarily looked at Nene. Even though he knew she'd be able to figure out what was on his mind by that mere glance, he just couldn't simply look down towards his food instead and save him the grief that she'd give him. Immediately, Nene picked up the signal and moved in to do some damage as punishment for continuing to hold back his thoughts about her sister.

"You know, I'm going to eventually tell him if you don't do it yourself. I'd get on that real soon, if I were you," she casually stated. Once again, Will's attention perked up about this little secret that was being passed between the two individuals he trusted the most. "You guys are really starting to bug me with this secrecy business," he said with an accusing stare at both of them. Nene just continued to focus her gaze on Cal, hoping that he'd eventually crack.

Fortunately for Cal, Ozma approached Nene from behind and let his hand drop onto her shoulder. She flinched from his unexpected arrival. "Nene, I need to see you in my office ASAP," he said as he continued out of the mess. Nene nodded in acknowledgment. The three pilots waited until he left the mess hall before turning back towards each other. Nene stared back at Cal, upset that he was so lucky to be able to wriggle his way out of this predicament once again. He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head in a taunting gesture. "You'd better get going! You know how the Commander doesn't like to wait long," he said.

Nene just couldn't let this kind of impudence go unpunished. She got up with a smirk and walked around to the other end of the table nearest to the exit of the mess and slowed her pace for a moment. Using both of her index fingers as metronomes, she taunted Cal with a sing-song voice, "Cal's in love with someone and I know who it is..." Her brashness caused Cal to gasp in reaction and he took a swipe at her from his seat to try and quiet her before she said too much. "Shh!" he said as he fought to regain his balance after his half-hearted swing. She effortlessly dodged his attack and walked out of the mess hall with a satisfied, but somewhat evil laugh.

Cal turned back to Will, dreading the reaction from him. Already, Will had begun to dream up a list of potentials to go over so he could finally find out everything about this little secret that had been kept from him for the past couple of days. "So, let's see if I can guess who it is. I'll start at the top of the list, here... You love... Lieutenant Wentz." It was a good guess; Will was much more observant than Cal had expected. "I'm not going to talk about this right now, Will..." Cal said as he began to get up to leave the mess hall. Will just got up from his seat and followed him out the door, continuing to pester him about the truth. Each statement and guess was met with a hostile denial from Cal. "Is it Lieutenant Jensen?" "No!" "Is it Ensign Tucker?" "No! Stop asking!" Nene's single sentence ignited a firestorm of trouble for Cal; she'd accomplished her goal of getting back at him for not telling Will at this point and for his smartass behavior at the table.

She had already made it to Ozma's office and listened while he enlightened her on his thoughts at the time. "I spoke with the commander of Triton Squadron about the decisions you made while you were assisting them earlier today." Nene began to get a little nervous about this. Triton's commander didn't seem at all happy with her, even though she was in the right. Ozma continued, "He wanted to apologize for getting upset with you and said that your assistance was very integral to the success of the mission." Whew! The load of bricks lifted off of Nene's shoulders with the positive words from Ozma. She straightened up her posture in reaction.

"Even though you've been in charge of your team for a couple of days, it seems that you're doing well as the leader. Your sister is poised to take her own squadron, should things work out for her on Aimo. I sent word to Cathy to ask for her help in finding Klan a good squadron to take. I know her well enough to confidently say that she will succeed in finding some leads for Klan," Ozma announced. Nene was a little saddened to think that her sister will not be flying in Skull Squadron for much longer, but it was for the best. She'd be happy that her sister was moving up in her career. Ozma continued, "That means there will be an opening for squadron XO and for Pixie Team's leader. Because you're a first lieutenant, your name came up on the list of possible replacements for XO, but I'm afraid that I can't give you the position just yet. I feel that you need experience as a team leader before you can take on the role of my second-in-command."

Nene was again let down a bit inside, but she totally understood why Ozma had come up with such a decision. She already had her hands full keeping Cal and Will wrangled under control. She knew that she'd be in over her head if she was to become the squadron's XO. "I understand completely, Sir." Ozma smiled at the quick resolution. "However, I do think that you're ready to take over your team. As I said before, you're already showing a lot of promise as a team leader and I think that after some time, you'll be ready for advancement. Your future is up to how well you perform in this role, so make the most of it." "Yes, Sir!"

Ozma turned his chair to the side and looked out of the window into the hangar. "I know you'll miss flying with your sister, but like I said, she needs to move on with her career. I really do need her here to keep things running smoothly, but I wouldn't dream of holding her back. We all have to let our chicklings grow up when they're ready. Remember that as a team leader; you shouldn't ever try to coddle your chicklings or they won't grow their own wings." Nene smiled at Ozma's advice, "Yes, Sir."

Ozma stood up to show Nene out. "Remember, this is only if your sister succeeds in taking over her own brood. I don't doubt hers or Cathy's abilities, but... Knowing Klan, she may choose to be picky with whatever gets thrown her way. If I find out she turns down a good opportunity, she's gonna get an earful from me when she gets back," he said with a smile as he accompanied Nene to the door. She laughed a bit at his idle threat; her sister doesn't take anyone's shit. ...Except maybe Ozma's, so he supposedly had some validity to his statement. They saluted each other before Nene left the office and she began to walk across the hangar towards the living area of the ship.

…

Red-hued clouds chased the Coral star to the edge of the horizon as dusk fell over Frontier City. Inside of a quiet, street-side bar, the bartender busily dried the last mug from his sink and turned towards the back wall to hang it by its handle. A child-like voice rang out from behind him in a casual fashion, "Tequila sunrise, orange." The bartender turned around expecting the usual customer, but he was instead facing a young girl wearing an NUNS officer's uniform. "I'm sorry hon, but you're too young to be in here. Where are your parents?" he asked. Without a word to say, the girl casually pushed her identification card forward on the bar to verify that she was old enough to be served.

The bartender held the card in his hand for quite a while as he inspected it for authenticity. He looked at the girl, then the card, and back again before he put it back down in front of her. An apologetic smile came to his face as he replied to her request, "I'm sorry about that. You just look very young for your age, Miss Klan. I'm sure you get that a lot, huh?" Of course, she was a bit annoyed at the harmless compliment, but she'd gotten used to it by now and sloughed it off.

Jazzy music played up the dimly lit atmosphere, filling the room with a bit of coziness for the bar's patrons. Klan sat on the barstool, slouched over while she remained deep in her own thoughts. Every few moments or so, she'd reach over to the bowl of mixed nuts and spread them out on the surface of the bar. She held tightly onto her drink with the other hand and would take a sip with every few bites. Such was the behavior of one who was pondering a lot within themselves. Klan's memory took her back to the place that she had been just before she visited the bar for a bit of "alone time"...

The vast, hilly field had an infinite number of neatly-arranged rows of headstones that seemed to stretch forever. A testament to the mortality of every precious life that lived in the colony, the grim monuments only served as a final resting place for even the strongest individuals. Klan confidently stood in front of Michael's gravestone, smiling as she carried on a conversation with him. She held his glasses close to her chest with one of her hands and her backpack stood up near her feet with its top open.

Cheerfully, she told him of everything that's happened to her since she last visited his grave several weeks ago. It certainly did take her a long time to cover such an eventful period of time. "It's amazing how someone can endure so much hardship, come out of it, and look back on those times with a sense of gratification. Had it not been for those happenings, one wouldn't become the person they are today. In life, you brought me happiness, even though you were so hard to reach, emotionally. In death, you taught me what it means to protect the lives of those whom I love."

She looked down towards the ground at her feet as she prepared to dive into a more profound subject. "Love... It can have many meanings, right? You showed me the meaning of your love when you sacrificed yourself to protect me so many months ago. It really means that you will do anything for the one you love; even die for them. For some reason, I performed the very same feat just a few days ago... I sacrificed myself to protect another. Although I did not die, the gesture raises a question in my mind, 'Did I do it because I _love_ him?'"

She felt the urge to fall to her knees and feel the grass growing at her feet with her bare hands. She succumbed to that desire and continued with her conversation with a bit of angst. "Even though I am finally moving on from losing you, I wish daily that you were still with me. I know you are now on another plane of existence, but I sure could use your advice on what to do about all of this mess. I wonder what you'd say if you could say anything at all..."

Silence fell over the cemetery and a light breeze blew past. The cool air chilled the moisture that was beginning to form in her eyes and she closed them to focus on the caressing feeling of the wind. The steady draft was enough to blow her backpack onto its side; the open top allowed several of its contents to spill out onto the ground. A couple of articles of clothing and a book were among the exposed items, but the yellow chickling hat tumbled out and came to rest on top of everything else. The commotion caused her to open her eyes again to see the mess that now lay in front of her; her gaze was fixated on the hat before she looked back up to the gravestone with a gratified smile...

The mixed nuts in front of Klan had not been touched for a few minutes, but the highball glass that once held her drink was empty. "Another one, Miss?" the bartender asked as he wiped down the counter nearby. She was already a bit tipsy from a single serving of her drink of choice. Her micloned body had far less of a tolerance to alcohol and she knew that she had an important meeting tomorrow. Better not push it too far... "No, thanks. I should probably head home." "Already? Well, I hope everything works out for you," the bartender casually stated.

Klan looked at him for a moment, confused as to what he meant by that. He leaned backwards against the counter behind him and crossed his arms. "When you work in the business as long as I have, you can 'tell' things about people just by what they drink and how they sit. You are someone who has a very big decision to make in the near future and you still haven't come close to deciding," he said. Klan was a bit surprised at the accuracy of his diagnosis. "Yeah, you have quite a talent there." "Well, I'm sure you'd rather not talk about it and I don't even know you, but I will say one thing about this 'decision'. Never pass up a good thing," he boldly stated. Klan nodded in acknowledgment and hopped down from the barstool, leaving a tip on the counter for the insightful barkeep.

…

The assault continued inside of Cal's and Will's quarters. They both laid on their beds, but Will would not stop flapping his mouth while he tried to wrest the truth from Cal. "So, tell me... who is it who's become the apple of your eye?" "Goddammit, Will... It's getting late and I want to go to sleep," Cal barked as he put his pillow over his head to try to muffle Will's voice. "Then just tell me already. I'll leave you alone once you tell me who it is." "_Damn you, Nene_," Cal thought to himself. She was probably lying in her own bed at that very moment, grinning in complete satisfaction. She knew that Will would eventually wear Cal down to a breaking point at some time.

Cal's thoughts about Nene's current location were spot on. However, she was not grinning. She was worried about the Pandora's box that she'd opened, concerning Cal and her sister. If Klan was going to be serving on another ship, it would probably mean that they would not be able to carry out what Nene had planned for them to do. On one hand, it's a good thing that Klan's career is taking a huge step forward and that Nene will become a team leader in her sister's stead. On the other, it would most likely mean that it would become a barrier between Klan and Cal and there was little chance that it would allow much interaction together.

Perhaps Cal was right to not draw attention to the reality of the relationship between himself and Klan. Shedding too much light on the issue was surely a way to set himself up for disappointment in the future, should things not go as planned. He claimed that it was no big deal, but Nene knew that there was something more to it than he led her to believe. She'd known Klan all her life and she knew that her sister can be unpredictable, based on her life experiences. With the added variable of Klan transferring to another ship, it was a bet that no sane person should be willing to make. She quietly hoped that Will would not be successful in getting Cal to spill the beans. She laid on her bed staring at her phone, seriously considering calling off the dogs until the uncertainties were worked out. Will can be quite unrelenting when he's motivated...

"I'm not going to let you get to sleep until you tell me. Just say it!" Will demanded once again. Cal still had his pillow over his head, clamping it to his ears with both hands in a futile effort to drown out Will's voice. The final prod caused him to snap. Cal yanked his pillow off of his head and violently flipped over onto his back. "Alright! Alright! It's Klan! I told her that I'm in love with her. Happy? Can I go to sleep now?" he yelled. Success! Will's incessant badgering has finally paid off for him. "Wh- What?" Will asked with disbelief in his voice. Cal groaned as he rolled back over and put the pillow back on his head to hide his embarrassment. "You're joking, right? After all of the fighting between you two and how she put you in the infirmary, you're in _love_ with her?"

Will could only hear labored groaning in response. He knew that Cal didn't want to talk about it, but he still pressed on, breaking his promise about leaving Cal alone after he admitted who it was. "How did this happen? Don't get me wrong, I think it's awesome, but still... I would never have guessed." Cal was still adamant about being left alone. "Can... I go... to sleep now?" he slowly said while gritting his teeth. "I guess, but... wow..." Will laid on his back with his arms crossed behind his head. His eyes were in no danger of closing anytime soon as he began to imagine the possibilities.

…

Bright and early in the morning, Klan was already making her way to the Zentraedi starport to attend her meeting with a potential commanding officer. She had done well to put the events of the previous day on the back-burner within her mind so she could focus her attention on the matter at hand. As she approached the main building on the base, she heard a faint voice calling out her name once again. "Oh, good! I'm glad you made it a little early. I was just about to leave and I hoped to catch you before your big interview." Klan located the source of the voice and responded, "I don't know how you always seem to be in six places at once, Cathy. Did you get some clones of yourself made?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Cathy stood on the roadside near her limousine as several staff members were loading inside. The roadway was elevated for the safety of the miclone motorists who would be using it. Cathy leaned against the railing while Klan moved to a more personal distance to talk to her. "A few more 'me's running around wouldn't be a bad idea, huh? Oh well, I don't think it would sit well with me," Cathy responded to Klan's rhetorical question. "Anyway, I did some research on this post and it jumped out at me as the perfect assignment for you. Not only is it a squadron of some of the best Zentraedi pilots in the fleet, but there's a little bit of incentive for you as well. I know you're accustomed to being in a test-pilot environment, what with the VF-25 currently being given combat evaluations in Skull Squadron. I won't spoil the surprise, but I think you'll appreciate it when you find out what it is."

Klan's imagination began to run wild with the possibilities. Already, she couldn't wait to find out what the surprise was. "As usual, your work is greatly appreciated, Cathy. I'll be sure to return the favor when I get a chance," Klan said with immense gratification. Cathy just shook her head, "It's what I do for a living, hon. Good luck in there! I'll talk to you later." Klan bid a goodbye as Cathy climbed into the limousine and it sped off to its next destination. The day was already starting out well and Klan had high hopes for what was to come.

She approached one of the Quiltra-Quelamitz battleships, as per her instructions from the base personnel office. Several of the ship's crew members, who were standing outside, watched her board the ship at one of the entry points. Klan could hear them talking about her, but she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. As was the behavior of most males when they are in groups, they were probably evaluating her physical appearance amongst each other. She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes as she entered the ship; typical male behavior is so immature...

Several of the other crew members inside of the ship were friendly enough to point Klan to the bridge, where she was to meet with one of the ship's sub-commanders. After being admitted to the command deck of the ship, she approached the captain's chair. "Lieutenant Commander Klan Klang reporting," she said, standing at attention and holding a salute. The chair swiveled around to reveal the commander who was sitting there. Upon recognizing the individual, she dropped her arm and narrowed her eyes. "Jormun..." she said with a begrudging voice.

He tilted his frame to the side to reveal his uniform's rank insignia to her. "That's _Commander_ Jormun, thank you very much," he said with a strong tone of cockiness. He continued as he approached Klan with his hand out to shake hers, "What, it's been a few years since we've seen each other and you aren't happy to see me again?" he asked. Klan stared at his hand for a moment before she answered, "We went out on one date and you never bothered to call me back. Why would I be?" Jormun thought about her answer for a second and retracted his hand when he realized that he was already being put on the defensive.

He cleared his throat before continuing with his greeting, "Well, I've been put in charge of staffing this ship with the proper personnel and I had an opening for squadron commander. I've been hearing murmurs of a certain 'Blue-haired Nephilim' and I could only think of one person every time I heard that term being thrown around by the miclone pilots. The Office of the Joint Chiefs contacted me about the opening for squadron commander and when I found out that they were trying to place _you_, I had to let them know that I would settle for none less than a pilot of your skills."

Klan allowed his compliment to stroke her ego just a little bit. "So, how did _you_ manage to get placed as a Commander on this ship? I find it hard to believe that you'd be in such high demand to be given such a prestigious position," she snapped at Jormun. He put his hands up in front of himself in a gesture of non-aggression. "Look, I can imagine that you're still upset at me for something that happened when we were in high school. That's all in the past and I'm just trying to do my job here. Can we please just keep things professional here?" he demanded. Klan took a breath, blew a tuft of hair out of her face, and crossed her arms; the gesture was just enough to say "Alright, just tell me what you want with me".

After a brief moment of hesitation, Jormun began to speak again, "With the arrival of the Zentraedi fleet, the NUNS has done pretty well in assimilating the new forces in with their own. Most of the crew on this ship are new to the colony, but the rest of the crew have lived their entire lives on the Frontier colony during our journey to this planet. I just happen to be the one who has been assigned to help staff this ship." Jormun began to walk past Klan towards the bridge's exit and asked her to follow him while he gave her the standard tour of the ship.

The tour ended in the ship's hangar area, where Jormun introduced Klan to the vehicles that were to be under her command, should she choose to take the position. "These Queadluuns all belong to Charon Squadron. If you take the post, they will be yours to command," he said. Klan looked over the row of power armors and responded, "There's one missing." Jormun laughed as he realized that she was tough to fool. "You've got a sharp mind, there. You're right, there is one missing..." He walked over to a segregated area of the hangar. The door leading into the sectioned-off compartment was under guard by two soldiers.

They saluted as Jormun approached the door. He turned around before opening it and warned Klan of what was on the other side of the wall. "Okay, before we go inside, I am going to tell you here and now that what you see inside is classified. The offer of squadron commander is enticing, indeed, but you won't be able to turn the position down when I show you what's on the other side." Klan nodded in acknowledgment and Jormun opened the door using a keycard and password before they both passed through.

…

"Will, would you please shut up about it already?" Cal demanded. His voice was slightly muffled because he had buried his face into his crossed arms as they lay on the table in the mess. Nene joined the two for breakfast and she noticed Cal's disposition as she laid her tray on the table and sat down. "What's wrong?" she asked as she turned her gaze towards Will. Cal didn't answer, but Will was nonchalant in his seat. "He told me," he casually stated. Nene's worries from the night before returned to her mind. "Oh..." she said, sounding dejected.

Will saw her reaction and began to doubt his actions, "Was I not supposed to get him to talk?" "No, it's okay... but I did a bit of thinking last night and kind of hoped you didn't succeed." Will was now confused. He didn't know if he was in the right or wrong, when it comes to Nene's opinion. She turned to Will and spoke, "Sweetie, do me a favor and leave Cal alone for a bit. I think I should let you two know about what's going on with Klan right now."

Cal turned his head just enough so he could see Nene from his "hiding place" on the table. Nene sighed before continuing, "Ozma told me that she will probably be promoted and assigned to her own squadron on Aimo. If that happens, we probably won't see her for a very long time. We have no idea if they'll be deployed to serve with us in the fleet, or they'll be used in some other way. That's why it isn't a good idea to get anyone's hopes up." She peered at Cal out of the corner of her eye and saw him simply bury his entire face back into his arms in reaction to the news.

"Aw, she's not coming back then?" Will asked as he sat back in his chair. His posture was indicative of his disappointment. "It's not official yet, but that's probably what will happen. That's why maybe all this wasn't such a good idea. I can only imagine how difficult this makes things for Cal," she said as she reached over and rubbed his back to help comfort him. He sat back up, wiped the disconcerted look from his face, and replaced it with smugness. "See? Didn't I tell you this was going to happen, Nene? I was right to not get my hopes up, wasn't I? Every time I do, I get burned somehow and this was no exception." Cal got up from his seat to leave. "You should be more careful when trying to play the matchmaker in the future," he said with a condescending tone in his voice.

As she watched him leave, Nene sat with a bit of a shocked look on her face. Even Will was surprised at Cal's attitude. He looked at her to gauge her reaction and was not pleased with it. Will appeared offended at Cal's comments and got up to follow him out for a confrontation on the issue, but Nene stopped him. "No, Will... he's right. I'm just glad that he followed his own advice, otherwise he'd probably be hurting a lot." Will sat back down, rather uncomfortably before responding, "Yeah, but he didn't have to be a jerk about it." Nene didn't respond, and only dejectedly looked down at her food. Suddenly, she didn't have much of an appetite.

Cal's facade of confidence quickly faded as he left the mess hall to find somewhere to be alone. He couldn't help the feeling that things were disappearing from around him. Somewhere deep inside, he couldn't help but feel that there was still a tiny chance that things would end up working out somehow. The realist in him, though, would remind him that it was foolish to even entertain such a chance... nothing ever seems to work out his way if he doesn't step in and do something about it himself. Unfortunately, in this case, there was little he could do. It seems that the only thing left is to try to get through the next few days by trying not to worry about it.

He had wandered to the observation deck during his walk and stopped at the last step on the stairs to watch a pair of crew members sitting on one of the benches in front of the large viewport. Easily, he recognized the familiar silhouette of Jen, but he did not know who the other person was. Within moments of merely observing, he saw her comfortably lean over and put her arm around the other figure. She seemed to be enjoying the company of another individual, much like she had done with Cal several times before. Cal's heart jumped at the sight of Jen getting close to someone else, but he quickly realized that she's only human and she desires someone who will give her their time.

It didn't take long for Cal to realize that he had been leaving her on a shelf while he dealt with his growing attachment to Klan. Even then, he didn't quite know why he was so hesitant to take advantage of Jen's advances towards him. Somehow, his subconscious knew of what was really going on, but he couldn't convince himself of it. It was easy to understand that he couldn't blame Jen for moving on from him, but he did wonder why she didn't seem to make much of an effort to let him know of her changing priorities.

Cal turned around and began to walk back down the stairs, unwilling to watch any longer since it was really not his business anymore. Jen was alerted to the sound of his feet shifting when he turned around to head back down the staircase. She whipped around just in time to recognize Cal quietly walking away and hopped up to chase him down. She excused herself before dashing towards the staircase to fix the apparent problem before it became too big to handle.

Even though he wasn't walking very fast, Cal had managed to get some distance between them and Jen frantically searched the corridors at every intersection in the hall to make sure that she didn't lose him. Cal entered an elevator that would take him to the deck that his quarters was on. Just as the doors began to close, a hand jammed itself in between them and they opened back up to let another person on. Cal, who was leaning against the wall to the side, glanced over to see Jen slightly hunched over and panting from her rush to find him.

Jen straightened up and entered the elevator; the doors quickly closed behind her. "Hi." "Hey." They exchanged casual greetings with each other. There was a very uncomfortable silence afterward and Jen began to get nervous because she knew that Cal was waiting for her to say something in regards to what was going on on the observation deck. "I saw you back there. I have been meaning to talk to you about-" "I know," Cal interrupted. His posture continued to make Jen feel uncomfortable; it seemed a bit accusing and condescending.

It didn't take him but a couple of seconds before he unfolded his arms and placed one hand on her shoulder. "Really... it's okay. I have only myself to blame for taking so long to make a decision. You need to do whatever it is that makes you happy, right?" Jen began to smile a bit as Cal continued, "My only question to you is 'How come you didn't tell me earlier?'" She answered quickly, as if she was still being defensive, "Because you're always busy flying out there. It seems that we just live two very different lives, even though we serve on the same ship..." Suddenly, Jen realized that she was beginning to understand what both Cal and Bobby had both been telling her lately.

Cal nodded as she gave her answer. "You know, I have been giving all of this serious consideration. However, I always seemed to run into this brick wall that pops up in between us; the fact that we can't even see each other often when we are on the same ship. I was wondering if you were thinking the same thing I was and it seems that that's the case, huh?" Jen just nodded in response while Cal's demeanor became slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry if I seemed like I was keeping you hanging on unnecessarily. I feel kind of bad that I couldn't make a decision and then it was as if I was ignoring you." In his mind, Cal acknowledged that the real cause for his apprehension was his growing attachment to Klan. Just like with everyone else, though, he couldn't reveal that fact to anyone until it was a done deal.

She shook her head since she felt like she should be the one apologizing. "Don't... You were there for me when I needed someone to talk to. It's because of your words of advice that I've been given the opportunity to move my career forward. I have you to thank for... for just being who you are." Cal blushed a bit at the compliments, "Geez, you make it feel like I go out of my way to do the things that I do. I can assure you that it's certainly not deserving of your gratitude." They both laughed nervously at each other as a pregnant pause found its way into the conversation. "So, who was it you were with?" Cal hesitantly asked...

Several minutes later, Jen slowly climbed the stairs back to the observation deck. Her mind was still saddled with emotional weight. In a way, the conversation with Cal went better than expected, but she still felt like she had lost a piece of her heart to him. Hopefully, they can still remain good friends, despite her lingering feelings for him. She returned to her previous spot and seated herself with a sigh. "What was that all about?" Commander Ortiz asked her. She looked up at him with a proud smile as she answered, "That was Lieutenant Wagner. We first met on Aimo right before the Quarter was deployed..." Jen seemed to take delight in telling him about Cal. Commander Ortiz listened with a bit of apprehension, but he enjoyed her story.

There was a bit of relief that came to Cal over his conversation with Jen. At least now, things were clear between them and he didn't have to worry about a force tugging him in a different direction, away from Klan. He does care about Jen a lot, but it just seems that she's not the one for him; whether it's a personality conflict, or just purely circumstantial. It did seem like the tides were causing him to naturally float towards Klan. She certainly does share a lot in common with Cal, despite their propensity to fight with each other over the smallest things. It sure is nice to be with someone who shares the same interests as you... two pilots who constantly challenge each other probably would make a good couple, but it's like two bullets colliding in midair; it's nearly impossible to do, but if it does happen, it's a pretty awesome thing.

Despite remaining calm and collected during his conversation with Jen, Cal's mental state was taking a bit of a beating over the recent developments. He probably won't see Klan for a long time and Jen has now turned her attention in a different direction than his. It didn't take long for two very important people in his life to figuratively vanish from right in front of him. These events were just another reason for his subconsciousness to terminate the connections he has with the people around him. It seemed like this was becoming a cycle to his life; meeting good people and then having them disappear for various reasons. It's no wonder he's gone through most of his life depending on only himself. Maybe that's why he has had problems accomplishing anything on his own.


	27. The Event Horizon

A/N: Alrighty, then... it's vacation time for me, so here is this week's submission. I will be out of town from the 19th through the 25th to attend my father's wedding. I might be able to get some writing done while I'm there, but I will be noticeably distracted by the goings-on of the whole ceremony and all. Plus, I want to go visit some old friends while I'm in town. I am done writing Chapter 32, but I don't know how long it will take me to write 33, since I will not be in my "cave" for a week. That just means that I probably won't be posting until well after I return from vacation. I am slowly, but surely, cleaning up the first few chapters to correct the tense problem I mentioned last chapter. That will also slow down my progress in writing the new chapter, but it shouldn't take me too long to finish it.

Concerning this and every chapter before it, I wanted to point out the fact that I put effort into kinda... "mimicking" little events and happenings from the other series. This is something that's practiced a LOT in the Frontier series, and I thought it would be kind of neat to also do so in this fanfic. I'm not copying or plagiarizing, I'm sort of paying an homage. It really helps connect the different series to each other, reminding the viewer or reader that it's all one universe (except for Macross II, lol). You, as the reader, may or may not have picked up on most of these little easter eggs I put in, but just to show you what I mean, I snagged a portion of the fight scene from the beginning of Macross Plus and loosely put it in the beginning of this chapter. There are other minor quips and phrases I throw in to various conversations that are lines from other Macross works. Keep an eye out for them and if you need to, go back to the old chapters and see if you can find 'em! (06/18/10)

* * *

Countless projectiles sequentially impacted on the surface of a particularly large planetoid as two combatants engaged each other in a fight to the death. Nene remained on the six of a rather pesky and agile Vajra drone while she tried to place several rounds into its body to finish it off. Before she could open fire one more time for the killing blow, she was cut off by an RVF-25, who charged in and did the work for her. The drone lifelessly floated away for a moment before igniting in an explosion. "Goddammit Cal, that was my target!" Nene yelled over the comm lines. Cal scoffed as he flew off to find another drone to kill. She gritted her teeth at his lack of response; he obviously didn't care about stealing her kills.

A replacement pilot flying a VF-171EX had been assigned to help Pixie Team wipe out the Vajra menace in the area. The other three pilots from Pixie Team were doing all of the work as he frantically tried to keep up with the elite pilots. Finally, an opportunity for a kill arose as his aspect-locking reticule tracked a drone. "Come on, come on, come on... YES!" he said as it locked on. Before he could fire, his line of sight was blocked by Cal's RVF zooming in and unloading a burst of gunpod fire into his target. The pilot was shocked at what happened in front of him and before he could start to complain, Cal's RVF transformed into battroid form and turned around to fire in his direction.

Cal's gunfire barely missed the 171EX and connected with a drone, who was moving up behind the unsuspecting pilot. "What the... Are you trying to kill me?" the pilot yelled. Cal simply floated his battroid over the 171EX and casually responded, "Here's a tip for ya, newbie... don't take too long with the small fries or they'll get behind you." The pilot growled into the comm lines while Cal flew off in fighter form.

Again, Nene sees this sudden burst of negative behavior coming from Cal and she thinks to herself how she's going to have to confront him over this issue. He's supposed to be covering Will, but he's out and about, dancing around and doing whatever he wants to. Will's voice boomed over the radio before Nene could say anything, "Cal, where the hell are you! I need your help!" Will was being manhandled by a mecha-drone on the surface of the asteroid upon which he had been perched to snipe. As the drone slammed Will's battroid into the ground, Cal opened up his radio to inform his wingmate of his impending rescue, "Don't move, Will!" The drone looked up at Cal, who was in battroid form and falling rapidly to their position. Cal opened fire with his gunpod and rained a column of hot metal death onto the drone. Will's battroid rolled backwards away from the drone, who had let him go after being pumped full of gunpod fire.

The drone exploded where it stood and Cal zoomed off to find more prey. "Cal, get back here! You're supposed to be covering me!" Will's pleas were ignored and Nene had no choice but to take position near Will to protect him. She opened up communications with her wily wingmate, "Cal, your orders were to cover Will. Return to your post at once!" Cal was busy toying with the Vajra drones in front of him and casually responded, "I can't make that order out, Nene. I think there's some kind of interference going on out here..." He continued to chase his targets and increased the distance between himself and the rest of his teammates. Nene could plainly make out what he was saying to her over the radio; she knew that he was full of shit...

While walking across the hangar towards the lockers, Cal felt pretty good about his effectiveness during Pixie Team's recent sortie. As if to try and burst his bubble, Will had to run from his bird to catch up with him. "Hey! What the hell's your problem? You're supposed to stay with me and cover me out there!" he said while aggressively pushing Cal's shoulder. Despite Will's obvious frustration towards him, Cal remained confident in his decisions during their flight time.

"Oh, come on... Do you really need me to babysit you all of the time, while you get all of the credit for your kills? My talents are being underutilized when I have to cover you and I don't like to sit on the sidelines while everyone else gets to play the game," Cal responded. Will stopped in his tracks while Cal continued on to the exit. He couldn't believe that Cal would be so audacious towards him. What's going on inside of his head right now?

Before he could exit the hangar, he was stopped once again. Nene stood over him in her Meltran form while she looked down towards him. "Don't go anywhere; we need to talk," she said with a stern tone. She continued into the next room where the micloning tanks were. Cal didn't like being talked to like that and he expressed his frustration at her by clicking his tongue and crossing his arms as he leaned against the hangar wall. He certainly seemed smug while Will continued to stare him down on his way into the locker room.

…

Klan patiently waited alone at a meeting table on the Zentraedi battleship. A paper notepad and pencil lay in front of her while she propped her head up with one hand. She seemed to be in deep thought; considering the possibilities of the opportunity that had been laid before her. Her mind replayed the events that had happened several hours ago in the ship's hangar...

The airlock doors opened to reveal the quarantined area contained within the segregated area of the hangar. Jormun and Klan walked inside, where there were countless technicians scurrying about while they worked on their projects. The amalgamation of their efforts seemed to be focused on a single power armor unit that was being held in place by high-tech riggings. The two watched a handful of technicians hooking up their diagnostics equipment to the power armor unit before Jormun finally broke the silence between them.

"Here she is... fresh from the factory..." Jormun said as he smiled at the sight of Klan's facial expressions. He could see her eyes lighting up as if she was looking at the many facets of light passing through a perfectly-cut gem. "This... is the newest prototype model Queadluun; the Rasa. Your job will not only be as the squadron leader of Charon Squadron, but you will also be tasked with the performance evaluations of this new model. You're the perfect pilot candidate for this job, since you have been in a testing environment within SMS's Skull Squadron for the last few years. Now, it's _your_ turn to test out the latest and greatest in Zentraedi innovation."

Klan was pretty much speechless as she ran her eyes over every meter of the Rasa's exterior. Jormun gave her a few moments to take in everything she could before he asked her the prime question, "So, can we count on you to lead this squadron and the project?" Klan tried to take her time to think about her answer, but her mind was already sure of what decision to make. "I just have one question..." she sulkingly asked. Jormun turned to her with an inquisitive look on his face. Klan smiled before continuing, "Does it come in red?" He laughed at her response and began to walk closer to the Queadluun while beckoning for her to follow...

Her mind returned to the present and she looked to the side of the room to check the time. There were still a few minutes left before the meeting was due to start, but she'd expected at least one or two people to show up early. Either the Zentrans on this ship are ridiculously prompt, or they have a tendency to show up late to important appointments. She returned to her previous posture to think things over a bit more before she dives headfirst into this endeavor.

Over the last few hours, her mind began to overcome the initial feeling of euphoria when she first saw the Queadluun Rasa and the enormous opportunity this was going to become for her. Although she had started to expect a transfer soon, it was as if it might have been a bit _too_ soon. There were loose ends that she had to tie up before she was truly ready to move on. She desperately sought to partake of the advice from her most trusted compatriots before making a huge decision such as this. Ozma, Nene, and... Cal. How is Cal going to handle this situation when he finds out that she wants to leave him behind to further her own career? A worrisome look overtook her face as she started to think about how she was going to get through it and save face at the same time.

Before she could dive any deeper into the quandary, the doors to the meeting room opened and several Zentraedi officers entered the room. Klan stood up to greet the incoming soldiers and noticed Jormun entering alongside the ship's captain. She saluted and stood at attention to greet the captain. Jormun introduced her before she could say anything, "This is Lieutenant Commander Klang. She's my choice to be our new Charon Squadron leader." The captain's eyes lit up at the sight of her. "Ah, we are lucky to be able to have such a beautiful Meltran amongst us here. We are looking forward to having you work with us on this project," he said.

He saluted her in return and placed his hand out to shake hers. Klan hesitated for a moment once again, like she had done with Jormun. She wasn't sure if his comment was chauvinistic, but she recognized his posture as professional and dismissed the comment as a mere compliment. She shook his hand in return as she responded, "Thank you, Sir. I'm glad to be here on this fine ship." His handshake was firm, indicating that he did not intend to treat her lightly just because she was a woman. She recognized this as a sign that she was in good company. Gender differences were merely cosmetic; all Zentrans were expected to perform their duties, regardless of whether or not they had a Y chromosome.

The Zentraedi officers took their seats while they chattered with each other about various subjects. Shortly thereafter, a group of technicians wearing labcoats entered the room. Both groups greeted each other with nods and short sentences. The captain checked his watch to make sure everyone was here on time. He calmly put his arm back down on the table and looked to the front of the room while the technicians set up their presentation materials.

…

Nene, who was now in her miclone form, emerged from the neighboring chamber and back into the hangar, where Cal stood waiting for her as ordered. She led him into the squadron briefing room, which was devoid of any crew members at the time. After she heard Cal shut the door behind him, she turned around with a look of concern on her face. "What's the matter, Cal? You're definitely not being yourself lately." Cal crossed his arms because he could sense the lecture coming on from Nene. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm just fine. What are you talking about?" he asked. "I'm talking about earlier in the mess hall and then out there during our sortie. You're really starting to become a bit of a jerk. I started to notice it in you after Will shot down that VF-27. I could see the jealousy in your eyes as you watched him being congratulated by the other pilots."

Subconsciously, Cal knew she was right on the money with her diagnosis. However, his ego would not allow the truth to surface. "Jealous? What do I have to be jealous about? I'm a better pilot than he is. What's goading me is that you keep sticking me with him so he can flourish as a pilot and I get suppressed. That's not at all fair, Nene!" he said as he threw his hand to the side in anger. In her mind, Nene had to cleave Cal's answer in half; separating the good point he made from the stink of his conceit.

She nodded before her rebuttal, "Your point is well-taken, but you need to take a good look at yourself right now. You're throwing away everything you've worked hard for to get into this squadron and to gain my sister's approval. We're all on the same team here and if you can't learn to work in that team, you're going to find yourself very alone." Cal did not like what he was hearing; the mentioning of Klan sparked more animosity from within him. "Don't bring her into this conversation. She's got nothing to do with it!"

Nene could see through his facade. He may say that Klan doesn't mean anything in the conversation, but that's probably what is causing him to behave this way. Nene started to feel bad about her attempts to get his hopes up, only to have them dashed away recently. "Look, Cal... I'm sorry about all that business with Klan. You were right and I should have listened to you. I'd like to say that I'm glad that you didn't get your hopes up, but I am sure that there is a part of you that is upset over her potential transfer."

Cal took a step forward to get closer to Nene's face, even though she was a couple of inches taller than him. Looking slightly upward, he unleashed more of his hidden frustrations on her, "I hope that you will use better judgment than that while we're in combat. I can't afford to have a bad decision hamper my performance out there." At this point, Nene was about to break. Already, Cal's attitude and statements were hurting her feelings and she tried hard to not let it affect her demeanor.

Nene gasped at his disrespectful words. "Cal! You stow that shit! You can't talk to me like that!" Sensing her weakness, Cal continued with his tirade, "You think it's a good idea to shine your favor on Will just because you two are in love, don't you? Well, I will not allow your feelings for him to affect my performance... it's bullshit; that's what it is." Nene was becoming more and more upset inside, but she didn't want to have to put Cal back in his place. "Cal, I consider us to be friends, but please don't make me pull rank on you," she said with a slight inflection in her voice.

Cal stopped talking for a moment before he turned away and headed for the door. "I don't have to listen to this..." he said. "Cal, stop!" Nene ordered. He continued to open the door, ignoring her words. She quickly turned up the volume several notches, "Lieutenant Wagner, you _will _stand at attention!" He stopped mid-stride, sighed, and turned around at attention. Nene stormed up to him and got into his face, "Your attitude is unacceptable. I have no choice but to confine you to your quarters until further notice. Is that understood?" Her face was beet-red, but there was a glimmer of light refracting through the moisture forming in her eyes.

Cal stood motionless and speechless for a moment. Nene repeated herself again, "I said, '_Is that understood_?'" Cal whipped his hand up to salute her and nearly grazed her face. Nene flinched backwards in reaction to his sudden movement. "Yes, Ma'am!" Cal yelled in response. With a robot-like series of movements, Cal lowered his arm, pivoted himself on one foot to turn around, and marched out into the hangar. Nene was left standing in the doorway, looking on as Cal's self-destruction continued. She was very hurt that he was willing to throw away their friendship so easily and that she had to use her rank superiority to get her point across. There was only one person she could think of for the support that she needed right now.

…

Klan sat in her seat, twirling her pencil in her hand, while she listened to the introductions from the members of the team involved in the Queadluun Rasa project. The lead technician finished introducing his team and moved on to introduce the notable Zentraedi officers in the room, "On this side of the table, we have Captain Geraum. He commands this ship, the Eksidos, and will supervise the project from a purely military standpoint." Captain Geraum nodded in response as sparse applause could be heard from a few attendees.

The lead technician then turned his gaze towards Klan. "Our test pilot, pending approval from NUNS command, will be Lieutenant Commander Klan Klang. Congratulations on your upcoming promotion, Commander. We had a chance to read up on your performance profile and we're really happy about the level of experience you have while working in a test environment. Your skills as an ace will definitely be a boon to our project." The other technicians nodded and smiled in agreement. Klan tried very hard not to blush at the intensity of the compliments that were being thrown her way. She steeled her demeanor and nodded with a smile in return.

The group of technicians scattered a bit; some to their seats, others to work on the notes and presentation materials set up in the front of the room. The lead technician turned the projector on and started with his demonstration. "And now... on with the show!" he said while holding a laser pointer in his hand. He clicked a button on the pointer and the projection changed. Klan smiled a bit at the humorous display from the technician; even Zentrans can be a little goofy at times, just like their miclone allies.

The technician started his monologue with the backdrop of various clips of combat footage taken during Macross Frontier's conflict with the Vajra swarm and Galaxy's forces. "During the war with the Vajra and Galaxy, it became glaringly clear that the Queadluun series was past due for an update. The Rhea was a good machine, but it did not match up well against the VF-25 nor the VF-27. Both machines sported obvious superiority over the colony's complement of Queadluun Rheas. The Rasa is the Zentraedi answer to both the 25 and the 27. Our hope is that we have designed a machine that truly puts us a step above the competition."

Several clips of Brera Sterne's purple VF-27 popped up at various points in the montage, causing Klan to grit her teeth at the frustration brought upon her by that little pest. Twice, she fell to him; but she realized that it wasn't just the pilot, it was his superior machine that gave him the upper-hand. Still, her pride as a Zentraedi pilot would not allow her to dismiss her past failures as mere excuses. She would continue to improve herself until she was considered "the best", hands down. For a moment, she remembered how Cal used to complain about the 171EX as a hindrance. Once he was in the seat of a 25, he was allowed to show his true colors and really began to flourish as a pilot. Flying the Rasa would be her chance to show her true skills as a pilot, no longer encumbered by the obsolescence of the Rhea.

"After mining countless sources of input from both Zentraedi and miclone pilots, we incorporated numerous advances into the new design. However, the biggest change is not in its weaponry, but its armor. We were lucky to come upon several kopalite deposits in the Kihnes Asteroid Belt and with it, we forged it as the basis for the Rasa's new armor. Stronger and much, much lighter, this armor allowed us to add a couple of new systems, while at the same time reducing its overall weight. The lighter weight, coupled with stronger engines and increased vernier output, means that the Rasa is much faster and more agile than the Rhea."

Already, Klan was starting to figuratively salivate at the initial introductions. She hungrily waited for more specs to come her way. "'What new systems' you may ask? I have three words for you, ladies and gentlemen: 'Pin... Point... Barrier'," the technician said as he counted three of his fingers down to none with each word of his answer. Some murmurs started to sound from various points in the room while technical specifications displayed on the projection. "This lovely gem is just like the one found on each variable fighter developed since the YF-19 and YF-21 prototype models. In the right hands, it can be used as both an offensive and defensive weapon." The projection showed footage of examples of pin-point barrier usage in combat by NUNS VFs and the earth-shattering Macross attack performed by both the Quarter and Battle Frontier against Battle Galaxy several months earlier.

"Other than the enhancements to the vernier system and a couple of other minor improvements, the legs have pretty much remained the same. The arms are where we made some significant changes. We recessed the tri-barrel pulse laser guns back a bit, much like the antiquated Queadluun Rau from the first Interstellar Space War. We heard numerous complaints from Rhea pilots about the guns protruding from the arms too much, hindering the melee combat capabilities of the model. In doing this, accuracy has to be sacrificed a bit. We compensated for this loss by making minor improvements on the barrel rifling and firing mechanisms. We hope that this change won't be noticeable, but let us know if you see anything," the technician said as he nodded at Klan.

"Now, comes the good part. I already mentioned the inclusion of a PPB system, and what can that possibly lead to...? You guessed it! Ta-da! Melee weapons!" The projection changed to show a detail of the Queadluun's forearms. "We've installed retractable blades on **both** arms to improve combat effectiveness at super-close ranges. With the pulse laser guns retracted by design, they will no longer be an issue when using these new blades." Already, Klan was imagining the possibilities of this improvement. She was beginning to notice a bit of a trend in the listing of changes being made to the Queadluun line of power armor suits.

"Also due to popular demand, we reinforced and widened the forearms so they could be used as extremely effective anti-munitions shields. When supported by the PPB system, they should be nearly impenetrable, save for a direct hit from a Macross Cannon... ha ha ha..." Several other people in the room chuckled at his joke; everyone knows that not even the most powerful defenses can stop the massive collimation of super-dimensional energy being emitted from a capital starship.

"Okay, and onto the final major change in regards to the arms... We replaced the three-digit manipulators with five-digit manipulators seen on the VFs. This will also assist your effectiveness in melee combat, while also giving you the ability to use standard-issue gunpods and other related weapons that were designed for VF use. Hopefully, you won't have to resort to using someone's lost gunpod, but the option is there in case the situation arises." With this item of improvement, Klan began to chuckle in her seat.

The room grew a bit silent as they waited for her to say something. "What's the matter, Commander?" the technician asked. "I'm sorry, it's just that... All of these improvements are features already seen on the 25 and 27. I'm just waiting for you to start talking about a variable configuration that's been incorporated into the design of the Rasa... heh," Klan sheepishly replied. The lead technician turned to one of his co-workers and pointed to the side at Klan with his thumb, "She's a sharp one... I guess we won't be able to get anything by her, huh?" The other technician just smiled and nodded.

"Indeed, it seems as though we're infusing a lot of known weapons systems into the Queadluun, but it still remains unique enough to set it aside from the rest of the armaments on the battlefield. We are just negating the strengths of the VFs by including them into the Queadluun's design. Those miclones are quite intuitive and the concept of a variable fighter has dominated the battlefield for six decades. It's not much in terms of time when compared to the domination of the Queadluun for so many eons of our race's history, but it's enough to reevaluate where we stand from a technological point of view." The room momentarily filled with sounds of approval over the lead technician's words. These Zentrans were ready to do what it takes to get back into the saddle, when it comes to their effectiveness on the battlefield. It was a sense of competition that ignited a fire of burning determination within Klan and everyone else in the room.

"Moving on... one of the systems that gives us a bit of uniqueness from at least the 25 is the Brain-Direct Image System, or BDI, already seen on the Rhea model. This guy will obviously make a return in the Rasa. **No**, we will not put the Brain-Direct Interface System, or BDS, into it. Even though the technology has made leaps and bounds in the past few years, it's still prohibitively expensive. Rhea pilots have had nothing but good things to say about the BDI, so we're gonna keep it in there and give it a few minor cosmetic enhancements. We know that the 27 has the BDS and that's partially what makes it such a damn good fighter, but that's also why you don't see too many of them; they're expensive as hell. We are confident that the design of the Rasa will allow our pilots to overcome the advantages that the BDS gives the 27."

"Just to be thorough, the BDI is the system that allows the computer to beam a 360 degree omnipositional image of the Queadluun's immediate surroundings directly into the pilot's brain. Obviously, this serves as a significant advantage, since it gives the pilot massively-increased positional awareness while in combat. The BDS is the system that allows the vehicle to be controlled merely by thought. It was initially hampered by buggy and unpredictable performance during its introduction in Project Supernova back in 2040 on the planet Eden. It's far more reliable now, but still costs too much to include in mass-production numbers. The 27 uses both the BDI and BDS systems to enhance pilot performance." Klan began to shift in her chair as she prepared to make another statement.

"I think I can speak for most Zentraedi pilots when I say that we would rather not enslave our minds to a computer in the pursuit of a bit of a leg-up on the competition. I, for one, would rather leave control of my Queadluun to the precision and reliability of my own body. I despise the use of any kind of cybernetic implantation or enhancement and would rather rely on my natural piloting instincts to push me to the next level. The BDI is as far as I'm willing to go in that area, so at least there, you won't hear any complaints from me," Klan confidently stated. Captain Geraum nodded at her words, "Spoken like a true Zentraedi warrior." She was surprised at his aggressive display of approval and felt pretty good about herself for stepping forward to say what she had on her mind about the issue.

The group of technicians in front also nodded. The lead technician continued with his presentation, "Yeah, we heard a lot of the same opinions from many pilots. It helped us justify not including the BDS, so thank you. Anyway, the final improvement we implemented was the replacement of the mounting rack on the back of the Queadluun. You know, the one that usually holds the anti-ship particle cannon and the thrust pods? Well, we changed it up so it will be able to mount a wider variety of weapons, giving the pilot the ability to customize his or her loadout. We're working on a couple of new weapons to use, but I can't divulge any details on them at this time."

The lead technician turned the projector off and the lights in the room returned to normal levels. "Are there any questions?" he asked. Immediately, Klan was worried about one thing. "I am concerned about your comments on the reduction in accuracy with the pulse cannons on the arms. I know you said that the rifling and enhancements to the firing mechanisms would compensate for this somewhat, but I know that the previous design of the Rhea allowed me to better see where I was shooting. From the point of view of the cockpit, having the barrels of the gun mounted farther away allowed me to use them as a tool in aiming. I won't be able to see where I am shooting as easily without using the computer to tell me, somehow. Have you done anything to compensate for that?" she asked.

The technicians all looked at each other with a bit of frustration in their faces. A few seconds of silent glances at each other yielded only a concerned response from the lead technician. "Um... that's actually a damn good question. We didn't anticipate such a need from the pilots. Since the Rasa still has not yet made its maiden flight, we haven't had that kind of input to make improvements with. Do you really think this will become an issue? If so, I think we can jury-rig something onto the current prototype until something more permanent can be used." Everyone in the room was already impressed by Klan's foresight and piloting prowess. Even without taking a seat in the Queadluun, she had already made note of a design flaw to the technicians. Needless to say, they became a bit sheepish at the realization of their oversight.

…

Back on the Quarter, Cal smugly reclined on his bunk while he passed the time watching a program on TV. He was obviously upset that he was being punished for his behavior, but something inside of him told him that he was somehow in the right. For once, though, the reality of the situation was not in agreement with his subconscious.

The door to his quarters opened and Will stormed in. "Hey, Asshole..." he said as he stood near Cal's bunk. Cal turned his head to see the consternation on Will's face. He muted the television to confront Will, since it was obvious Will was looking for an argument. "What the problem?" Cal asked. "You are, jackass. I just got done talking to Nene and she was not happy with you at all. She tried to stop me from coming in here to deal with you, but I wouldn't let her. So, here I am..."

Cal slowly got up from his bed and stood in front of Will with a casual demeanor. "...and?" he asked again. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you really need to get your shit together. Nene was extremely hurt that you forced her to pull rank on you. I can't stand by and watch someone hurt her feelings; not even a friend... if that's what you are at all." Cal was getting his fur rubbed the wrong way once again, due to the conniption that Will was throwing his way.

"My 'friends' were the ones who tried to get my hopes up over something so impossible, despite my obvious disapproval over the matter. Who was it who hounded me for hours until I admitted the truth to them?" Will looked away for a moment upon hearing Cal's answer. He, too, felt bad for egging Cal on for so long. "Well, I'm sorry about that. I was only doing what I thought was right. Sometimes, you need a kick in the pants to get you moving in the right direction again," he said with a slightly insincere tone in his voice. Will's anger over Nene's hurt feelings were changing the inflections in his voice to sound different than he intended.

"That still doesn't mean you can treat us like crap," Will continued, "Especially Nene... she's more important to me than anything, including a friendship with you. Don't make me choose, Cal. Get your act together." "So, rather than confronting me herself, she sends her lapdog to do the dirty work?" Cal said. His insult was more than enough to push Will over the edge. His left cross met the right side of Cal's face with surprising speed.

After a moment, Cal stood straight up again and wiped the newly-discharged blood from the cut on his lip. A smirk returned to his face, beckoning Will to hit him again, if he dared. Will instead pointed his finger into Cal's face as he answered Cal's question. "I'm nobody's lapdog, you hear? I am here _against_ Nene's will because I don't like to see her hurt by someone else. You'd understand if you actually knew how to love someone other than yourself!" This time, Will's barbed words were enough to give Cal an excuse to return fire. A similar right cross connected with its target.

Instead of calmly taking his shot, Will stood back up and charged Cal against the wall before unloading several shots to his body. By now, diplomacy by words was completely out the window and the two pilots engaged each other in full-blown fisticuffs. Cal used his elbow to hit Will on the back while he was leaned forward punching at Cal's body. Another shot to the face with a knee caused Will to reel back from the blow, freeing Cal up from against the wall. Cal doubled forward and held his battered abdomen while Will stopped his backwards momentum and positioned himself for another attack.

"I'm not going to stand idly by while I watch you deteriorate into a total piece of shit!" Will yelled as he followed through with a strong right. Cal quickly dodged the punch and delivered a counterattack to Will's stomach. He grabbed Will's arm and turned to his left, using his own body as a fulcrum point to flip Will overhead and onto the ground. "You're just jealous that I am a better pilot! I can't help it if you need someone to constantly cover your ass just so you will stay alive!" Cal said. He followed up his remark with a crushing blow directed at Will's face while he still laid on the ground.

Will crossed his arms just below the wrists to deflect the blow. After catching Cal's arm between his own, he flexed his wrists inwards and yanked Cal downwards by his arm. The applied force caused Cal to stumble forwards and down, while his weight made it easy for Will to throw his legs upwards and grab Cal's body. He flipped Cal over and caused him to land on the ground, still caught between his own legs and his arm still being held upwards by Will. Cal's neck was conveniently placed between Will's thighs and he sought to cut off the air and blood flow until Cal finally calmed down.

In a straining voice, Will continued to berate Cal over his behavior, "You're out of control, Cal. You've given me no choice but to have to **kick your ass**!" Cal refused to yield and after struggling to free himself for a bit, he resorted to a bit of a cheap move. A bite to his inner thigh caused Will to yelp in pain and he flinched, releasing Cal from his hold. Without even fully standing, Cal scampered on all fours to charge Will again before he could get off of the ground. The two slid on the ground a couple of feet from the momentum of Cal's attack. They came to rest after Will's head and neck bumped up against the wall.

Cal began to angrily swipe at Will's face with his fists. Will blocked most of the blows with his arms and hands, but an occasional punch would land somewhere on his head. Since he was busy defending himself with his arms, Will tried a verbal attack, in the hopes that it might curb Cal's assault. "If she ever comes back, I don't think Klan is going to be happy to see you becoming this. Are you prepared to hurt her feelings too?" Will fervently asked.

Suddenly, Cal stopped swinging and looked up a bit from his current point of view. Her image momentarily appeared in his mind. He made the connection that Will had described and realized that this was not the kind of person that Klan had grown fond of. The very thought of hurting the feelings of someone he cared deeply about was enough to cause his psyche to snap back into a more normal state. He realized Will's motives in protecting Nene from getting her feelings hurt and stopped swinging.

The pause in attacks gave Will the opportunity to free himself. He slowly lowered his arms and delivered an uppercut that sent Cal sailing from on top of him. Will quickly got up and cocked his arm back to deliver another blow to the now-incapacitated Cal. Just as his fist started to move forward, Cal yelled out, "Stop! Stop!" Cal had put his arms up to protect himself while he had turned his head to the side and winced his face. Will stumbled backwards and thrust his torso up against the wall to catch his breath. Cal put his arms down when he realized that the fight was over. Both pilots remained motionless, panting and grunting while they tried to overcome the sensations of pain throbbing in various places on their bodies.

Cal shook his head from left to right a couple of times, trying to jostle the wiring in his brain to a better-working condition again. "Will..." he grunted, "You're right. You're absolutely right. I've been a complete dick to you guys and I'm sorry. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me, but when I started to think that I was being left only to myself again, I started to lash out." They both struggled to get up and find a suitable seat to sit on. The table and chairs had been knocked to various places in their quarters.

Before anything else could be said, a knock sounded at the door. Will suddenly became afraid of who might be standing on the other side. He looked at the door and then quickly looked at Cal, who invited the visitor in without much thought. "It's open," Cal casually said with a slight pant. The doors opened to reveal a demure Nene, who stood holding her hands together below her waist. She noticed several spots of blood on the floor, along with the table and chairs scattered around. Both pilots sat in opposite corners of the quarters, like two boxers in between rounds of a title bout. Upon seeing their numerous cuts and bruises, she gasped and dashed inside towards Will.

"What the shit? What happened?" she demanded as she began to coddle Will's head in her arms. Will casually and rhetorically responded to her question, "What does it look like, Nene?" She let go of his head and used her hand to forcefully turn Will's face towards hers. She began to use her hand to wipe away some of his blood and inspected his face for a bit of a damage report. Seeing Will's face in the condition that it was, she angrily turned towards Cal and was about to unload on him.

"No! Nene, it's fine. Just leave him be," Will sternly stated. She quickly cooled her jets and walked into the bathroom to grab some wet towels. Will and Cal looked at each other and met each others eyes with a mutual understanding of the issues at hand. Nene emerged from the bathroom and angrily tossed a towel onto Cal's lap while she walked back to Will and began to dab at his face with the other towel in her hand. Will kept recoiling in pain and she reached behind his head to hold it in place.

Cal looked down at the towel now beginning to soak its wetness into his uniform. He picked it up and stared at it in his hand for a moment before speaking. "All of my life, I've had to deal with the most important people in my life being taken away from me for various reasons. When I realized that I probably was not going to see Klan again for a long time, I lost sight of everything else around me." Nene stopped tending to Will's wounds for a moment to look at Cal, indicating that she was listening to his words.

"I forgot how important good friends are and I tried to alienate you guys because I couldn't deal with being alone again," Cal said. A smile ran across his face and he chuckled as he continued, "The way I see it is that fake friends will see your faults and won't say or do anything to help you fix them. They'd just rather fade away than deal with it. **Real** friends are those who will do whatever it takes to guide you in the right direction. Sometimes, it just takes a simple intervention of sorts to fix things, but sometimes, it takes something... more."

Will laughed as he realized what Cal was getting to. Cal got up from his chair and began to slowly make his way towards Will and Nene, while holding the wet towel up to his bleeding lip and nose. "Some people you just can't get to with mere words. With stubborn people like me, the only thing that works is a good ass-kicking. I should be lucky to have you two as friends; people who aren't afraid to confront me about their problems with me and deliver said ass-kicking when it's called for. You guys are **real** friends, in my opinion. Call me crazy for condoning physical violence between friends, but I guess we're all a little nuts, huh?"

Will and Nene smiled at Cal's words. They knew that he understood what they had been trying to tell him all day and they also felt better for having to use such unorthodox methods to get their point across. Cal sheepishly stared at the ground as he continued, "Nene, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. For what it's worth, I think that you are a solid team leader and I hope that you'll continue to excel in that position for as long as you hold it." He gave Nene a hug as a gesture of sincerity and she gladly accepted.

Cal then turned his gaze towards Will, who was still seated. "You're turning into a hell of a sniper pilot and I couldn't help but feel a little threatened by your burgeoning skills. It was selfish of me to think that I was entitled to more adulation when you were the one who deserved it. I'm happy for you and Nene and I wish you both good times together." He put his hand out for a shake and Will firmly returned the gesture.

Nene stood by while she watched them reconcile with each other. She began to shake her head at what she was seeing and smirked at the situation. "Men... They always seem to quickly resort to physical violence to solve their problems. It's just one of the many facets of the male psyche that I will probably never come to understand." Cal and Will laughed in response and Cal answered her statement, "Oh, I don't know, Nene... I can think of a couple of women I know who can throw a punch or two." Cal rolled his eyes while he made a vague reference to Nene's sister. She knew exactly who he was talking about and smiled back.


	28. The Ties That Bind

A/N: Well, it's been two weeks since I last posted a chapter and it looks like there is, in fact, demand for "MOAR!" My trip to Los Angeles and Las Vegas was pretty bitchin' and I even came home richer than when I left. I Made 300 bucks on a single hand of 3-card poker the night before I left, so it put me well into the positive and I decided to quit right then and there!

I've been trying to work on Chapter 33 so I can finish it before posting 28, here, but I'm having difficulty focusing on writing. It's not just the fact that I've been playing ridiculous amounts of Civilzation 4 and Left 4 Dead 2, but I find myself just sitting at the computer staring blankly at my screen. Hopefully, it's just a fit of writer's block and I'll snap out of it soon. For now, though, I didn't want to leave you all hanging for too long. Here's Chapter 28, despite me not having finished 33 yet on my end.

On a related note, I appreciate all of the kind words you all have had for my work so far. I do want to request that if you want to leave some reviews, try to be as ambiguous as possible about what happens in each chapter. I don't want to have new readers come in and read the reviews and already know a lot about what happens in the story. I went into the reviews to see if there was a way I could edit them, but it looks like that's not possible on my end. If it's possible for you all to do, see if you can clean it up for me so we don't spoil anything for the new readers. If you want to leave more specific comments or questions, feel free to PM me. Your words of encouragement truly empower me to keep on charging through each chapter. Thanks in advance! (07/04/10)

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The morning sun began to appear from behind the small mountain overlooking the Zentraedi starport. Only the top half of the Eksidos was illuminated by the sunlight shining over the range. Countless birds bathed in pools of water that had collected from the layer of condensation left on the ship's hull overnight. Down on the tarmac, groups of Zentrans similarly gathered around various pieces of equipment that had been set up overnight so they could flail about as they performed their assigned tasks.

Several technicians continued working on the newly-painted-red Queadluun Rasa prototype, finalizing the necessary checks on the power armor's systems and body. Its test pilot slowly walked around it to inspect and memorize every facet of her new conveyance. Klan now wore the standard Meltrandi flightsuit, which had a retro design based off of the ones worn during Space War I. Amongst the chatter between the technicians, Klan carried a conversation with the Queadluun; the standard ritual performed by many pilots before a flight. The lead technician waited for her to finish before speaking to her.

"Don't get too attached to it, Commander. We already have the new prototype being constructed at the factory as we speak. Feel free to try and push everything to its limits on this one, so we can see how much tolerance it has." Klan appreciated the challenge being presented to her and nodded with a smile. She climbed into the open hatch to the cockpit, using the stepping points located on the Queadluun's maintenance cradle. As she checked her positioning in the cockpit to make sure the interior dimensions were correct, the lead technician also ascended the frontside to speak with Klan before she closed the hatch.

"I hope you got plenty of rest last night because we're going to be running tests all day. We're behind schedule on the project and NUNS command is breathing down our necks about it. They want us to get the Rasa into real combat evaluations as quickly as possible." Klan had no issues with this and fervently nodded. "Then you guys picked the right pilot for this project," she said with confidence. She put her hands up to her face to feel with them; as if something was missing. A quick look to the left and then to the right yielded no answers. The technician smirked, casually reached to his left, and grabbed her helmet to hand it to her. "Forget something?" he asked. Klan nervously laughed to cover up her slight embarrassment and snatched the helmet out of his hand to put it on.

The technician began to speak at an elevated volume so Klan could hear him through her helmet. "We rigged up a temporary solution to the aiming issues you rubbed our faces in yesterday," the technician said with a laugh. He pointed to the ends of the arms of the Queadluun and explained, "We attached simple laser sights to increase visibility, but they'll only work if there's particulate matter nearby to reflect light off of. Basically, they won't work in space. The next prototype will have a fix for that issue..." he said. Klan nodded in acknowledgment. He smiled and patted her on the top of the helmet as he began to descend from the hatch. "Good luck!" he said with a thumbs up.

Before she closed the hatch, she revealed a few objects she had been hiding on her person. Klan reached up to fasten those objects to the top of the display screen while the hatch was still open. Now finished, she toggled the hatch mechanism and it closed, locking itself in place with a separate series of brief mechanical movements. The engine fired up with an ascending, whirring sound and her display screen notified her of the engine's "OK" status. A burst of hot air exited from the exhaust ports on the back as the thermonuclear engines began to operate at an idling level.

Initially closing her eyes to feel the thrum of the engines firing up, Klan opened them to the viewscreen in front of her. A glance upward revealed the items that she had affixed to her cockpit before closing the hatch. A picture of herself as a child playing with Michael, which she had gotten from her parents a couple of days before, had been wedged behind the display monitor. "_Michael, I wish you could be here to see this_," she thought to herself. Hanging down slightly over the top of the monitor was a looped string that held Cal's hat, which she had restored while she was micloned the same day she visited Michael's grave. "_Cal is going to shit bricks when he finds out I'm now a test pilot too! I can't wait to see the look on his face..._" she thought to herself while wearing an evil grin.

Outside of the Queadluun, the technicians had cleared away their equipment to make room for Klan's departure. The Queadluun stood up from its cradle, held its arms up in front, and flexed the new five-digit manipulators on the ends of the arms. Stepping forward out of the cradle, the power armor crouched and threw its arms to the sides and back, as if it was about to jump. A quick spin-up of the engine and Klan blasted forward in her new Queadluun Rasa. The shockwave of the sudden burst from the engines knocked a couple of the nearby technicians flat on their butts. Even though they were standing at a safe distance, the power of the new engines was more than enough to send them stumbling out of their stances. Flying parallel to the ground, the Queadluun quickly reached the end of the tarmac and flew over the ocean's surface. Another intense burst from the engines created another shockwave as the Queadluun changed its velocity 90 degrees upwards. The water burst away in reaction to the force being applied to it, as if a depth charge had detonated a few feet below the surface.

As she charged up into the stratosphere, Klan's face bore the look of concentration. Despite the abilities of the Inertia Store Converter system to soak up some of the artificial g-forces generated during flight, Klan could definitely feel the power of the Queadluun's acceleration tugging the skin of her face back just enough to make it clear that she was tearing a hole through the atmosphere. She could feel the acceleration beginning to decline and remembered that the lead technician had asked her to push the prototype to its limits as best as she could. An even more determined look found its way onto her face and she used her controls to put the engines into overboost. Applying the pin-point barrier to the front of the Queadluun as a means to improve aerodynamics and reduce friction, the power armor boosted to unheard-of trans-atmospheric speeds for the Queadluun series.

In the control room, several technicians gasped and murmured with each other at the sight of the readouts from their computers. The lead technician grinned ear-to-ear at his console as the chase cameras struggled to keep a view on the lightning-quick Queadluun. Based on his experience with both the Rasa and Klan, he seemed to expect something like this to happen. He looked up at the command level of the bridge, where Captain Geraum, Jormun, and the project's design chief stood. Three very happy people were eagerly witnessing the maiden flight of their precious project. The results of tens of thousands of man-hours was being played out on the screens in front of them, with significantly positive results... and the testing period was only several seconds old!

Within several more seconds, Klan's Queadluun reached the edges of Aimo's atmosphere. She shut her engines down and let her inertia carry her forward for a few seconds. The Queadluun then turned slightly to the side and reached out with that side's arm to grasp at the emptiness of space. Even though she was now living out her dreams that very second, a part of her consciousness desired to be in a different place: within the fleet of ships still circling the system. A particular ship dominated that thought as she pulled the Queadluun's arm inward with a closed fist. "_I'll see you all again real soon... just wait for me_," she thought to herself with her eyes closed as the Queadluun held its fist close to its chest. The near silence of the moment was just right for her to lose herself in her thoughts.

As quickly as she entered that moment, she re-opened her eyes, flipped the Queadluun over with its verniers, and boosted back down into the atmosphere to begin her re-entry. A red-hot aura began to form around the power armor, before Klan reapplied the pin-point barrier to reduce the air friction. Upon feeling a sense of unbound freedom within the atmosphere, Klan felt an uncontrollable urge to just let loose all of her inhibitions. In the control room, the radio began to fill with joyous whooping and laughter from the Queadluun's pilot. A couple of technicians stared at the main screen with incredulous looks on their faces. The rest of them were grinning and chuckling at what was going on during their test. Klan had found within her a feeling of true euphoria, brought on by the test flight. However, she acknowledged that none of this would be possible without the series of events that had occurred beforehand to get her to this point.

"Ha ha ha! This is great!" she exclaimed into her radio. She pulled into a steep climb and then looped to a descending trajectory. The high g-forces pulled her body in directions that made it difficult to breathe, but it was a restricting feeling that makes pilots feel so alive while they are flying. It's almost as if the sky is touching them; manipulating their every essence, both physically and intangibly. "Whoooooo...!" she exclaimed in response to both the Queadluun's performance and the g-forces violently pulling at her body. She looked up to the top of her display monitor to see both the photograph and the hat. The picture was staying put pretty well, but the hat was swinging every which way its inertia would send it before the string yanked it back into a steady position.

One of the technicians leaned over to the lead technician to complain about the harsh treatment of their precious Queadluun. "She's going to tear that thing apart if she keeps it up!" he exclaimed into the lead technician's ear. The lead technician simply brushed him away with a smile and a shake of his head. "Just let her do whatever she wants. I don't think we could have picked a better test pilot for this project. If she keeps this pace up, we'll be deploying this thing into space in no time," he said.

…

Luca picked up his tray of food from the galley line and turned towards the mess hall to see Alto sitting in the darkest corner of the room, tilting his chair backwards and chewing some of his food with his arms folded. He didn't look all-too happy about something. Luca, being the caring type and a good friend, immediately approached Alto's table and took a seat opposite of him. Alto simply looked at Luca and then returned his gaze towards some inconsequential object in the distance. He obviously had no reason to stare at that particular item, and it was evident that he was more or less replaying some recent event in his mind.

"Is there something you'd like to talk about?" Luca asked as he dipped his fork into one of the items on his tray. Following a moment of silence, Alto finally spoke up, "Apparently, I'm 'too young' to hold the rank of lieutenant commander. Can you believe that crap?" Initially, Luca didn't really know what he meant by that. "Wait, what?" "Ozma is looking for a replacement for Klan and he told me that I was being considered, but I am too young and inexperienced for the job."

Luca didn't seem to have a problem with the decision, "Well, we _are_ pretty young. You will be eighteen soon... you're already a team leader, and I think that's pretty good for someone your age. You've only been flying in combat for a year now. Ozma is probably just looking for someone who has more experience in both combat and leadership. He'll need someone to replace himself some day, you know." Alto still did not sway from his stance on the matter. "Well, it didn't stop him from choosing Klan as his XO at her age." "Dude, she was 19 and she'd been flying in SMS for a couple of years. I'm just saying that you need to be patient. Everyone knows that you're the one who stopped Grace O'Connor from taking over the galaxy a few months ago. You made first lieutenant because of it. You'll get your chance in due time."

Alto returned his chair back to all fours and grabbed his fork. "I don't know. It just feels like... Do you ever get the feeling that you're just not flying at your best?" Alto asked. Luca leaned forward and rested his head on one of his hands as he answered, "I _used_ to not really care about things like that, but lately... it's like I've become addicted to improving my skills as a pilot. In retrospect, I realize that I did feel as if I wasn't contributing to the cause. I felt like I was holding all of you back. Like that time when I got captured and detained inside of the Vajra cruiser? You had to come and rescue me and it cost you your VF." "Well, we both came out of that alive, didn't we?" Alto quickly responded in an effort to assuage Luca's guilt over the matter.

"Right, but I almost got killed a few weeks ago because I just can't seem to defend myself. I got some combat tips from Lieutenant Wagner of Pixie Team and ever since then, I've been able to score a couple of kills for myself every time we get into a scrape. It's an exhilarating feeling, to be honest. I now understand that it's sometimes necessary to use force when you seek to protect that which is important to you," Luca said. He took a bite of food to give Alto a chance to interject. "Don't sell yourself short when it comes to the contributions that you make to the squadron. Your expertise in reconnaissance and electronic countermeasures has come in handy more than once. It doesn't have to be measured in terms of how many kills you got during some sortie."

Luca swallowed his food and smiled at Alto's compliments. "You, of all people, should know the importance of continuing to improve yourself every day. Even now, you're complaining about not operating at your peak performance levels. You can't fault me for feeling the same way you do about your skills as a pilot." "Touche," Alto said. He knew that Luca was right about that. However, it still didn't solve his problem. "Now that I think about it, it seems as if I have lost sight of what it was that kept me pushing forward with all of my might. You might understand when I say that there is a person or persons who, either passively or aggressively, give you the incentive you need to make yourself into a better person. I don't have my 'wings' with me out here..." Alto said in a sulking voice. He turned his head to the side and looked downwards.

Luca's eyes opened wide as he began to realize what Alto was talking about. "Do you mean Sheryl and Ranka?" Alto didn't respond verbally; he just smiled and looked back at his friend sitting across the table from him. Luca understood that his guess was correct and he smiled as he took another bite of his food. After chewing for a moment and swallowing, Luca decided to make an attempt at comforting his friend. "I miss Nanase too... very much, in fact. Do you know what it is that keeps me going strong every day, though? I know that the better I perform my duties, the faster we complete our mission objectives. That means I will be reunited with her sooner. Lethargy does nobody any good here." "That's true. I first joined SMS to protect. That mission has not yet changed, but I seem to have lost sight of that. You're right, if I allow myself to become lethargic with my duties because I am under protest over something so trivial, then it will just make this mission longer that it has to be," Alto said with an agreeable nod.

They continued eating in silence for a few moments before Alto got a bit curious. "I wonder what they're up to right now..." he said with a day-dreamy tone in his voice. Luca shrugged as he became lost in his thoughts about what his dear Nanase was doing at that moment. They both finished their meals in silence, thinking about the most important things that they had left behind on Aimo.

…

At that moment, Ranka, Nanase, and Brera stood backstage as they watched an amateur rock band covering classic Fire Bomber songs. A mixed crowd of civilians and soldiers filled the outdoor amphitheater located in one of the larger parks on the outskirts of Frontier City. A handful of full-sized Zentrans formed a semi-circle at the top of the carved-out spectator seating area. There certainly was a bit of electricity coursing through the air, powered by the energetic performance.

Ranka stood with her arms folded and nodded to the beat of the band's final number, "Totsugeki Love Heart". "Pretty good," she casually remarked, "Ozma would definitely be enjoying this if he was here." Nanase held a clipboard closely to her body and sighed in relief. "I'm just glad that we got this show organized so quickly and everything went as planned." Ranka retracted, as if about to be hit by a falling object. "Nanase! Shh! You're going to jinx us if you keep saying stuff like that!" she said with a friendly smile. Nanase covered her mouth with her hands, hoping to contain any more words from escaping, and giggled in embarrassment.

Just as the band finished their song, the crowd began to cheer loudly in encouragement for the up-and-comers of the music world. Ranka re-entered the stage, applauding while walking towards the lead singer. After thanking the crowd for their support, the lead singer turned to Ranka and bowed while offering her the microphone turned sideways in his hands. Amongst the deafening crowd noise, the two singers had a short conversation with each other while they waited for the crowd to settle down a bit. Ranka gave him a professional handshake in a thankful gesture and he rejoined his bandmates, who were beginning to pack up their equipment.

Backstage, Nanase and Brera heard a voice from behind them, "Do you guys have an extra mic I can use real fast?" As they turned to see who was talking to them, Ranka started to talk to the crowd to wrap up the show. "Thank you all so much for coming and supporting these new acts! I'd also like to thank all of today's performers for contributing their time and effort in making this all possible!" Suddenly, another voice opened up on the audio system. "Do you think we have time for one more song?" The crowd became a bit silent as they watched another figure appear from the side of the stage, walking towards Ranka's position.

"Sheryl!" Ranka exclaimed. The crowd erupted to see one of their favorite performers making a cameo appearance at such a low-key event. Several voices could barely be heard above the rest of the crowd's roar as they pined for attention from the popular idol. Sheryl walked towards the center of the stage, cheerily waving at the crowd. She and Ranka hugged each other as they met center-stage and Ranka spoke to the crowd, "Well, do you think you guys can spare just a few minutes for Sheryl?" She already knew what their answer would be, but she asked anyways just for fun. As was expected, the crowd roared in a positive response to her what-should-have-been rhetorical question.

"Ha ha ha... Thank you for letting me play one last song. This one is from my upcoming album, which coincidentally, I just finished recording today. I headed straight over here after my session ended and I thought I'd give you all a bit of a sneak preview," Sheryl said. Ranka's expression was an interested one. The crowd cheered with excitement over the unexpected bonus of attending the event. Sheryl noticed the audio technician shrugging at her with his palms upwards and to the sides. "I know, I know... I don't have an audio track with me. I was hoping to try it a cappella, but..." she said as she looked around her for something to use.

The band that had just finished playing was still working to pack up their equipment, but had stopped to watch Sheryl and Ranka at the front of the stage. Sheryl motioned for them to come closer to her. "Guys... come here..." she said in a whispery voice over the microphone. They eagerly approached, willing to do anything for the music idol. After huddling with them for a moment, she spoke louder again, "Do you think you guys can do that for me?" "Yes ma'am!" they all exclaimed and dashed towards their instruments.

Sheryl turned back to the crowd and urged them to cheer the amateur band for their effort, "Okay, these guys are going to play backup for me. Just keep in mind that they've never heard this song, but I know they'll try hard to keep a good beat," she said as she turned and winked at them. They smiled and laughed with nervous hesitation; the opportunity to play backup for one of the galaxy's biggest music idols was giving them butterflies in their stomachs.

Ranka stood to the side to spectate and began to clap her hands to the beat of the song being played. Sheryl entered the lyrical part of her song on queue and brought a sense of awe to the crowd from her words. As they watched from backstage, Nanase and Brera were joined by Elmo. Brera was enjoying the song, but something was bothering him about this impromptu performance. "Elmo, isn't this kind of a bad thing for Sheryl to perform one of her new songs when it hasn't even been released yet? ...the album just finished recording today!" he asked. Elmo shook his head and smiled, "I'm a master negotiator, my dear Brera. Sheryl owns the creative rights to her songs, in exchange for a slightly lower cut in residuals. That's just how she likes it. When I got back from vacation, those record execs were playing her like a marionette. Now, the album is cut and she can move on to the next item on her agenda without those vultures breathing down her neck..." Nanase and Brera smiled at the good news and turned back to the stage to watch the rest of Sheryl's performance.

Sheryl's new song was being delivered extremely well, both lyrically and musically. She danced about the members of the band, who were trying their hardest to remain harmonic, despite the lack of any sheet music or practice on the song. Sheryl was pleased with their improvisations, which made the song really glow with energy. She spent an equal amount of time singing alongside each band member, casually touching them or leaning against them with each song verse. The musicians all seemed to share a sense of harmony with each other; each one thoroughly enjoyed playing the song alongside one of their greatest musical influences.

Sheryl finished her song with the backup band playing a bit of an explosive finish. The electrified crowd stood up and cheered. The members of the band were dumbfounded at their own performance, standing still in disbelief that they had just played a song with **the** Sheryl Nome. She turned and motioned for them to come nearer once more and they approached after putting down their instruments. They all joined hands and Sheryl led them into a bow towards the crowd.

Ranka then approached the front of the stage, clapping along with the crowd. "Wow! Great job guys! Give them a hand, everyone!" she exclaimed. The crowd answered in kind and the band members returned to the rear of the stage to continue packing up their equipment. Sheryl draped her arm around Ranka's back as Ranka finished the show. "Make sure you support the acts who played here by picking up their discs and merchandising if you liked them! They all spend so much time working hard to realize their dreams and they could use your help in paying a few bills along the way, ha ha ha!" Ranka jokingly remarked. The band members in the rear laughed along with the joke. They knew that she was totally right; the life of an amateur band is spent sleeping in their cars and frequently eating microwaveable noodles as a meal.

A bit later backstage, all of the acts were in attendance at the after-event party being held. Groupies, stage techs, friends, and family, were strewn about the room, engaging in friendly conversation with each other. Despite being in a celebratory atmosphere, Elmo attentively watched his tablet as information poured in through the wireless connection. "Wow, the pre-orders for the concert tape are skyrocketing," he remarked. "I'm sure it's thanks to Sheryl's song. I'm excited to hear the rest of the album some day!" Nanase exclaimed. Sheryl glimmered a smile in Nanase's direction for the compliment.

Elmo continued to read the sheets, which were being updated in real-time from the vendors working the show. He smiled as one figure jumped out from his tablet. "That band that played for you already sold out of their demo discs and t-shirts. I think you really did them a huge favor, Sheryl," he said. "Hey, they deserve it. Those guys have a lot of talent!" Ranka said. Everyone at the table turned towards where the band members were sitting and raised their glasses in a toast to the amateurs. The day could not have gone better for those lucky individuals; it was as if they were in a dream that they dare not wake up from.

Ranka sighed as she turned back around to her front. "I'm glad that we're done with this event. I'm so tired from all of this hard work," she said as she looked at Sheryl, "Does this mean that you'll be working with us for now?" Sheryl tipped her glass up to finish the contents inside before answering with an excited nod, "Oh yeah!" She reached over to the champagne bottle to pour another glass. Although excited by Sheryl's availability, Ranka was still sulking a bit. "Now, all we have to do is convince the NUNS to let us visit the deployed fleet. We'll be able to see Alto and Luca again...!" she said, looking at Sheryl and Nanase. Even Ozma had entered Ranka's mind; he was definitely an important part of her life that she sorely missed.

…

"Keep your eyes peeled out here, gentlemen. My instincts tell me that we're about to run into some less-than-savory characters soon," Nene barked over the comm lines. Pixie Team cruised through the outskirts of the fleet's extremities, looking for a fight once more. They were again accompanied by a pilot from another ship. No doubt, Ozma was setting things up to find a replacement pilot, since the squadron will probably be short one soon. The last prospective pilot wasn't too bad, but he probably wasn't quite Skull Squadron material.

It didn't take long for Cal's radar to signal him of incoming hostiles. "Heh..." he scoffed, upon the realization that it was once again playtime. Without hesitation, nor a word spoken, Nene boosted off towards the incursion while Will anchored himself to a medium-sized planetoid to begin his sniping routine. Cal transformed to battroid mode and stood watch over Will, giving the sniper the cover he needs so he can concentrate on the job at hand. The 'guest' VF hesitated at the aforementioned actions by the pilots of Pixie Team. He didn't seem to know what was going on; only that there were incoming hostiles.

"Well, do you need an invitation, pilot?" Nene rhetorically asked, "Let's go, chickling!" The pilot didn't like being called that, and grunted in response as he boosted off towards her. Cal watched over Will with vigilance, despite his strong urges to get into the thick of the fight off in the distance. "I won't mind if you let a few of them slip by towards us," he said with a chuckle as he presented his battroid's fist towards Will. They bumped fists, in what seemed to be a recurring ritual for them, and Will began to open fire on the incoming Vajra pests.

When Nene got close enough to engage some of the drones, numerous new bogeys appeared on the radar. It looks like she'd been lured into a bit of a trap. "Uh.. guys?" she chimed out with a bit of nervousness in her voice. "I'm ready and waiting, Nene," Cal responded, "All you have to do is say the word..." Cal patiently waited in battroid form while floating near Will, who was firing at a pretty rapid rate for a sniper. It was definitely an indication of a target-rich environment. Cal could swear that he was about to start drooling at the prospects of getting tangled up with so many baddies.

Nene furiously chased one of the mecha-drones, firing on it every time she could maneuver herself into an advantageous position. It didn't seem to be trying to shake her from its six; it only seemed to be distracting her enough for one of its companions to get behind her. Sure enough, two fighter-drones engaged Nene from behind. Before they could even get a shot off, though, a spread of gunpod fire pelted both drones. The VF-171EX zoomed past them as they exploded, but he was also being chased by a handful of Vajra. Nene smiled at the successful kills; at least this pilot was making himself useful.

Realizing that they were sorely outnumbered, Nene made the call. "Okay, Cal... bring the pain!" she ordered. Cal had already transformed to fighter form and zoomed off before she could finish her sentence. "Whee!" he squealed in excitement. It was enough nonsense to bring a smile and slight laugh to Will and Nene. She finally connected with her current target and put it down with a gun kill, and changed her priorities to help the 171 pilot shake his pursuers before he bought the farm. "Hang in there. I'll have those drones off of your ass in a few moments," Nene said.

She moved in behind them and opened fire, causing them to scatter a bit. As they all moved into a dive to follow the 171, a couple of sniper rounds passed by, hitting one of the drones. The 171 pilot could be heard on the radio, grunting and panting as he tried his best to keep from being overtaken. Fortunately for him, he had an experienced Meltrandi pilot covering him. Nene sought to return the favor and cleared out two more drones from behind the 171, leaving one drone to deal with. The 171 realized this development and allowed the final drone to get closer to him before he transformed to battroid form, whipped around, and opened fire with his gunpod. The sudden transformation caught the drone off guard and it could not react in time to avoid being hit.

Nene and the 171 pilot found themselves alone amongst the planetoids for just a few moments. She turned to see Cal engaging a few drones on his own, but he didn't seem to be struggling at all. "Lieutenant?" the 171 pilot began to inquire. Nene put out her Queadluun's arm to stop him from engaging Cal's targets a few kilometers away. "Just watch," she said with a smile. "He's seriously outnumbered!" he responded. "That's just the way he likes to fight. You'll see..."

The radio was filling up with Cal's taunts and laughter. He exhibited no fear at all, despite having the odds stacked against him. Using the occasional fold-magnetic chaff packet, he kept his pursuers at bay while he chased one of the drones. Nothing it did was enough to shake Cal off of its six and after a few more seconds, Cal placed a salvo of gunpod fire through its protective husk. A quick 180 in battroid form and Cal transformed to fighter form, charging back at the group of Vajra headed his way. Amazingly, he was able to quickly gain missile lock on most of them and opened fire with the missile bays on the super pack parts.

Each missile weaved its way through the empty space towards the targets. As Cal zoomed between the group of drones, they turned a bit to watch him pass by, distracting them from the incoming missiles. Most of the drones were hit and destroyed by the missile impacts. Only a couple of them remained focused on Cal and they re-entered pursuit with even more intensity. Unfortunately, the speed they had lost trying to turn around contributed to their demise. The drones were now easy targets for the sniper positioned scores of kilometers away. Two more rounds hit their targets and Cal found himself in a one-on-one with the last mecha-drone.

Never one to miss an opportunity for a little fun, Cal turned around towards the mecha-drone and tossed his gunpod to the side. The drone witnessed this foolish act and charged in after a slight hesitation at the gesture. Cal's actions merely taunted the drone into engaging him in full-on melee combat, his favorite. "He's out of his mind!" the 171 pilot exclaimed. Nene and Will just laughed while they watched Cal fighting with the mecha-drone.

A strong lurch from the drone enabled it to get the first attack off in the form of a swipe from its claws. Cal dodged it and each successive swipe by skillfully backing away. It really seemed as though he was just toying with the drone at this point. A forwards flip enabled him to dodge another attack and he threw his battroid's legs down onto the drone's topside, stunning it as he backed away for a moment. "Come on, asshole..." he taunted with a "come hither" motion from his battroid's hand.

Amazingly, the drone seemed to react out of rage; even though it was supposed to be socially hive-minded creature, incapable of emotions. Initially, it looked like the drone was going in for another swipe with its claws. However, it quickly changed its attack when it neared Cal and flipped itself upwards to strike with its tail. The attack connected with the battroid, sending it spinning upwards and out of control. Several alarms began to sound in the cockpit, warning the pilot of possible systems damage. "Bastard..." Cal grunted as he tried to regain control over his VFs attitude. A controlled thrust from his verniers placed him back to facing the mecha-drone, who was rearing for another lunge.

Rather than draw the fight on too long, Cal opted to go for the killing blow. Catching the Vajra's attacking claw, he shifted position enough to allow the drone to sail overhead, while pulling it's claw past to accelerate his own attack. A quick swipe from his combat knife formed a glowing arc crossing the drone's midsection. The disemboweling attack left the drone with only precious seconds to live. Its desperate measures yielded no results and only allowed Cal to strike again at a critical point. "Lights out...!" he exclaimed as the attack connected.

He retracted his combat knife from the now-lifeless corpse and checked his radar to see if there was any more action going on around him. "That's it?" Cal asked. Nene and the 171 pilot rejoined Cal at his position. The 171 pilot was in a state of disbelief at what he had just seen. "I didn't know RVFs can fight like that. I always considered them to be cannon-fodder, when they're not being used solely for their enhanced radar capabilities." "No! Don't stroke his ego!" Nene exclaimed in futility. "Too late!" Cal responded with a smirk.

Suddenly, the pilot remembered where he had seen a similar display from an RVF. "Wait, aren't you that guy who beat a red Rhea while flying an RVF-171EX? Wasn't that the Nephilim's Queadluun?" he asked. Cal became slightly demure at the question, though. He didn't want to downplay Klan's piloting capabilities. "Yeah, that was me. She beat me the day before that, though, so it was just a rematch." "Wow, I should have known, then. Some of the guys on my ship still talk about that dogfight you guys had so many weeks ago."

Reminded of Klan, Cal began to think about how much he missed being able to fly with her. There was the part of him that enjoyed the flying, but there was another part of him that simply enjoyed being around her in person. It was a one-two punch that always connected with his emotional self since she returned to Aimo. Fortunately, he's been able to endure the separation from the person whom he once considered to be his rival and prime motivational factor for his skills as a pilot.

…

Back in the city of Laplamiz, Klan had finally made her way home after a fourteen-hour testing session with the new Queadluun Rasa. Even though she had been rested for the long day ahead of her, she was now too tired to do anything but flop down on her bed and roll onto her side to fall asleep. She wasn't too tired to bask in the feeling of extreme accomplishment she had earned through the course of the day, however. A **lot** of testing had been completed, thanks to her and the efforts of entire design team. There were a lot of happy faces seen on the command deck towards the end of the day and Klan could sense that this was a sign of good things to come for her. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, but deep within her subconscious, there was a nagging doubt festering somewhere.

In her dream, she found herself in space, among the crew of the Quarter. For some reason, however, she was unable to speak to them or touch them. It was as if she was a ghost haunting them in a vain effort to reconnect with the people whom she cares most about. She stood in the hangar, watching every pilot leave the ship with organization and calmness about them. It didn't seem like they were in a hurry to go anywhere or were in a sense of heightened alertness. A familiar RVF-25 taxied past her and onto the deck elevator. She tried to see inside of the canopy to identify the pilot, but it was too murky to even make out a faint figure.

Once the hangar was emptied, Klan felt a hand fall onto her shoulder. "Some things haven't changed, have they?" a voice sounded from behind. She turned to see an ethereal image of Michael, who wore a casual smile. However, he had taken the form of a giant like her and she was able to look into his eyes at an even level, for a change. The strange thing, though, was that she didn't feel like she had lost him so many months ago. It was as if he had always been with her, so she didn't start to cry over their reunion. "What?" she asked. "Klan..." Michael said, "You're still unable to communicate your true feelings to the people you care about. Tell me, are you prepared to suffer the consequences if you wait too long again?"

Upon hearing his question, she began to remember the hardships she went through while she dealt with his death and the words he uttered to her when they parted for eternity. Before she could convey any of her feelings to him, the image of Michael began to fade away. She lunged forward to try and stop him from leaving. To her surprise, she was able to embrace his body and it seemed like she had succeeded in stopping him from leaving. After a moment of silence, she looked back up to his face, only to find that she was now holding Cal in her arms. He seemed to be stuck in a catatonic state; unaware of her presence. Klan hesitated once more to emotionally react and she then began to feel herself slipping down through the hangar deck, as if something was pulling her away.

Multiple attempts to grapple onto Cal's body were all in vain; it was as if he had the texture of a fish, fresh out of the water. She continued to fall through the ship's hull and when she was exposed to its view from outer space, she saw that the ship was surrounded by countless sources of negative energies; the feeling of being surrounded by hostile entities. The ships in the fleet began to open fire at the enemy presence, only to have their fire returned by artillery from the newly-emerged Vajra cruisers. In the very farthest reaches of her vision, she could see a battlegroup of Galaxy cruisers and carriers lurking in the back. Once the Frontier fleet had been decimated by the attacking entities, the Quarter was swallowed up by a giant shadow, never to be seen again.

At that point, Klan's eyes opened up and she stared directly in front of her. She remained motionless as she tried to process the meaning of her vision. Was she really visited by Michael's ghost? If so, was he trying to make her understand that her tendency to hesitate, when it comes to the matters of the heart, will lead to more hardship in the future? When faced with the opportunity to express her feelings, her hesitation was punished by losing her grip on Cal and being pulled away from the Quarter in a violent fashion. Now unable to do anything about it, she was witness to the possible destruction of the Quarter and everyone who served on the ship. She gritted her teeth in a gesture of defiance at the fate that was being shown to her; at no point will she ever allow such a thing to happen. All of her life, she was the protector of those whom she loves. She was not about to let up, despite her current location. Even her will for the survival of those people should be strong enough to have an effect on their fates until she returns to fight at their side.


	29. The Coming Storm

A/N: Finally finished Chapter 33 last night, but it really took me quite awhile to write the whole thing. I'm starting to feel a little fatigued at writing so much, but I hope to get over it quickly. Fortunately, I have the next chapter plotted out in an outline form, so I hope that it will help me finish it sooner. I usually write my chapters with nothing but the thoughts in my head and perhaps that's why I struggled to finish 33... I couldn't decide on what to write.

Again, I encourage you all to PM me or send me an e-mail if you have any specific comments to make regarding each chapter I release. I appreciate all of the input you can give me, so don't think that you'd be annoying me or anything like that.

Enjoy! -(07/12/10)

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Ozma asked as he entered Captain Wilder's office. The door closed behind him and he took a seat in front of Wilder's desk, after a brief salute. The Captain was busily tapping away at the keyboard in front of his computer console and he decided to finish what he was working on before speaking to Ozma. After he was done with his work, Wilder folded his hands on the desk in front of him in an ominous gesture. Ozma could tell that he was going to have to take this conversation quite seriously.

"It's been confirmed. Your executive officer has finally flown the coop and is taking her own brood," Captain Wilder announced. The obscure avian reference was a familiar language to a pilot like Ozma. Wilder still has not forgotten his days as a pilot, which makes the relationship between himself and Ozma quite a bit easier to maintain. "Have you selected a replacement for her yet?" Wilder asked. Ozma was a bit confused at the question, since he had just heard the news only a few seconds prior to being asked. "What?" Captain Wilder tapped one of his fingers onto the backside of his other hand, which indicated his mounting impatience.

"Let me guess. You didn't have a backup plan for this?" Captain Wilder asked. Ozma could see where this conversation was going. He had to quickly admit to himself that he has been a bit lax when it comes to making plans for the future. "I've done a little bit of research into the personnel files, but I haven't found a suitable match yet." Ozma had to tell a bit of a fib to keep Captain Wilder's impatience at bay. The Captain sighed and leaned back in his chair. He kept his hands folded on his stomach as the chair reclined backwards under the force of his weight. "So, that means that you're short one pilot in one of your forward attack teams, **and** you don't have an executive officer in your squadron."

"Yes, Sir. It appears so," Ozma said with hesitation. It was going to take some skillful dialogue to keep from getting into any kind of trouble over his lack of foresight. He had to act quickly so he would not be stuck on the defensive for the duration of the conversation with his superior officer. "I need your opinion, though. I have already ordained Lieutenant Rora as the new leader of Pixie Team, but if I bring in a new XO, I won't have an opening for a team leader. Should I bump someone out of their position to make room?" Captain Wilder intercepted the escape attempt before it was too late. "You know that I expect you to do whatever it takes. I don't think I have to answer that question for you." Ozma knew that he was not going to get out of this without a bit of an ass-chewing.

Captain Wilder sighed and recomposed himself to assuage some of the frustration building up inside of him. "Ozma... We've known each other for several years now, and I haven't had much of an issue with your work habits. Now, though, I've been concerned that you're starting to let things slip through the cracks." He leaned forward and glared at Ozma to continue his slight lecture. "Because I have respect for you as a pilot and squadron leader, I don't feel the necessity to come down on you very hard over this. However, you have to understand that NUNS command has my nuts in a vice over the lack of preparation that led to the unnecessary destruction and loss of life during our first encounter with the Vajra near Coral-5. Also, I feel personally responsible for the lives of all of the soldiers in this fleet. As the saying goes, 'shit rolls downhill'. I won't tolerate lack of preparation that may lead to more unnecessary loss of life."

He then reclined in his chair once again as he finished his monologue. "Get on it. I need you to report your progress on the matter to me by the end of the day, got it?" In the many years that he's known Captain Wilder, Ozma has rarely seen this kind of intensity from the usually-calm Captain. It seems that this campaign is really starting to bring out a side of the Captain that has never been necessary, up until now. Ozma forgets that his superior officer must sometimes put the friendship aside so that he can do his job; Ozma has to do it to his subordinates once in awhile too. "Understood, Sir," he said as he got up to salute.

Instead of saluting back, Captain Wilder stood up from his chair and put his hand out for a shake. Ozma immediately recognized this gesture as a sign of respect for their friendship. Captain Wilder definitely wanted him to know that, despite the necessity to circumvent their friendship in this case, he still holds their relationship in high regards. Ozma reached down and returned the handshake with a firm grip. The two pilots, one current and one former, donned warm smiles and looked each other straight in the eyes. It was understood that there was no intention of any harm towards their relationship, despite having to put it aside to get the job done. Ozma left Captain Wilder's office a bit mortified from getting chewed-out, but he knew that as long as he completed his duties and followed his orders, he would find a friend in the good Captain.

…

A large group of Zentraedi soldiers gathered in one of the meeting rooms on their ship. There was a dull roar of chatter amongst them as they waited for the meeting to begin. Right on time, the officers entered the room from the rear entrance. One of the soldiers, who had been keeping watch for them near the rear entrance stood at attention and barked out at the other soldiers in the room, "Officers on deck!" The chatter immediately froze and the sound of many soldiers simultaneously standing up and at attention boomed through the room.

With Klan standing behind him, Jormun stood front-and-center and quickly scanned over the personnel in the room. "At ease!" he ordered. Everyone quickly returned to their seats and began to wonder who the Meltran standing behind their ship's first officer was. Several of the soldiers looked at each other inquisitively, as if they were telepathically asking each other about her. Jormun waited for a moment while everyone got comfortable in their seats again.

"Alright, guys... I've called you all in here to introduce you to your new squadron commander." He stepped aside and pointed to Klan with his outstretched palm. "This is Commander Klan Klang and she will be leading Charon Squadron from here on out," he said while he quickly peered at the new rank insignia on her uniform. The room was briefly filled with murmurs and whispers. Several pairs of Zentrans leaned in towards each other to hear what words were being covertly passed between them.

Jormun continued with his introduction, "She is a highly-skilled and experienced pilot who has spent her career flying for the civilian military provider, SMS, and has been partially responsible for its success as the NUNS's newest elite fighter squadron." The pilots in the room nodded in agreement upon hearing Klan's credentials. She remained motionless and kept an indifferent look on her face while Jormun finished his introduction of her. "She comes highly recommended by her superiors and by the Office of the Joint Chiefs. Charon Squadron, salute your new commanding officer!" he said while he turned towards Klan and saluted. The rest of the personnel followed in kind and that booming sound of an entire squadron simultaneously standing at attention made a brief comeback.

Klan saluted her new squadron and turned to Jormun to salute him back as well. After shaking hands with her, he stepped aside and let her take over the meeting. "It's good to finally see you all. The good Commander here has told me a lot about you; mostly good, and some bad. However, he has warned me that you all are a fairly rowdy bunch." She began to walk around the room, passing between seated soldiers and scanning them over for an introductory impression. "I think you should know that I've always run a tight ship and I have a low tolerance for games. This squadron has been described as 'one of the best', and I intend to stick by that definition and improve on it, if possible."

As she continued to walk through the room, a couple of Zentrans were whispering to each other and both seemed to be chuckling at something they said to each other, while trying to appear attentive to her monologue. Klan could see the exchange out of the corner of her eye, but continued speaking anyway, "Our goal as a Zentraedi elite fighter squadron is to show those miclones that we Zentrans can fight on a higher level than they can!" Most of the pilots in the room grunted in agreement. However, the same pair of pilots continued their conversation, despite anything Klan had to say. She casually strolled just past the pair of pilots and stopped for a moment. They were silent while she was nearby and turned their attention back to her just as she started to speak again. "Unfortunately, we won't be able to achieve that kind of success without some discipline."

Klan turned around towards the pair of pilots and only wore a look of seriousness on her face. Her old self would have simply torn into them for talking to each other while she was speaking to the squadron, but this version of Klan was a little more... stoic. "Since our two friends here feel it necessary to carry on their own little conversation while I am speaking; which, I think you all would agree, is quite disrespectful to me, the squadron gets to share their punishment." Klan wryly grinned as she walked away from the two mortified pilots. "Have any of you ever had to clean the head... while in your skivvies?" she asked to her squadron. Tongues clicked and jeers followed as the squadron turned their frustration towards the two individuals who had been talking the whole time. The pair of pilots desperately used their notebooks to try and deflect as many of the wadded-up balls of paper being thrown at them as they could.

Klan stopped at the front of the room and looked towards the idle projection screen on the wall. She was actually looking past it, though... Unbeknownst to her squadron, she wore a smile of satisfaction while she listened to the pilots taking out their anger on the two Zentrans who got them all into trouble. In her mind, she revisited the memory of how she had gotten Cal to clean the bathrooms while wearing only his boxers and an undershirt. Those were good times, but they were definitely not as enjoyable as the last few days she spent in the fleet. Following her reconciliations with Cal and the realization that she could finally move on and return to her old self again, it was like she had been freed from the bondage of emotional weight brought on by the events of the preceding several months. If it wasn't for her sister, but most importantly, the efforts of one extremely stubborn miclone RVF pilot, she wouldn't be standing in front of her own squadron as their commander. She quickly renewed her wishes for the safety of the crew of the Quarter while she was away. Her fist balled up and she smirked as she began to think about how she was going to show up that cocky RVF pilot with her new Queadluun, if and when she returned.

…

Despite the bustling activity in the hangar, Ozma's office remained relatively quiet. Most of the raucous noise from the outside was filtered out, by design. However, anyone standing just outside of one of the windows could be heard if they spoke loudly enough. Every time a pilot or technician passed by and hollered at someone across the hangar from them, Ozma would look up from his desk to identify the source of the muffled voices. Normally, these kinds of interruptions would hamper the progress of one's current duties, but he had no issues since he was accustomed to such a work environment.

Ozma was just beginning to sink into another personnel file, when he heard a crew member shouting to another off in the distance. He looked up to see the crew member dash off back to where the VFs were being stored and maintained, but just before he dipped his head again, a pair of pilots walked by with indifferent looks on their faces. Several feet separated them from each other, and not a word was said between them. Ozma's sharp eyes noticed the signs of fighting imprinted on their faces, even though the scars were now barely noticeable. They hadn't done a terrible amount of damage to each other, but it was enough to catch Ozma's eye.

Nene watched her two chickling pilots head towards their birds while she was on her way to the micloning tanks. Before she could make the turn, she heard Ozma calling out to her from his office door. When Nene neared a more personal conversation distance, Ozma did a single nod in the direction of Cal and Will and made known his curiosity. "What's with their faces?" "What? Oh... that... It's nothing. Just a little problem that needed to be taken care of. Everything is hunky-dory now, though," Nene answered with a nervous smile. She knew that Ozma had already expressed his disapproval over the previous episodes of 'Pixie Team Drama Theater' and she had no room to wiggle, since she was all set to take over as the team leader soon. Ozma decided to address this situation after he delivered slightly-more-important news first.

"Hmm... Well, I just wanted to mention to you that your sister has found her new home and her transfer and promotion is now written in stone. That means that you'll be taking over as Pixie Team's leader." Ozma announced. Nene gasped at the news, both of her sister's promotion and of her own; even though she was not advancing in rank. Ozma continued, "Before I give my congratulations to you, I just want to make sure that we're not going to be having any re-occurrences of past events, if you know what I mean..." Nene didn't answer, she just looked over to where Will and Cal were standing and performed a single nod, like Ozma had just done earlier.

They were standing near Will's VF, each with a hand straight up above their heads in the all-too-familiar exercise pilots engage in when they are practicing aerobatic maneuvers in their minds. Will followed Cal's hand movements, as if there was a short flying lesson being taught at that very moment. Every few seconds, Will would have to backtrack his path to mimic Cal's; but after a minute or so, he completed the routine and engaged in an inaudible conversation with Cal. The two pilots seemed just as amicable towards each other as they always have been in the past, and the sight of their apparent harmony was relieving to Ozma. After they exchanged words of encouragement between each other, they bumped fists and headed towards their VFs to prepare for their impending launch.

Ozma smirked and looked back at Nene, who had an aura of extreme confidence about her now. "Nene, how many times must I tell you that beating the sense into your pilots is not always the best way to get the job done?" he joked. Nene played along with his joke and revealed her hand from her side, which she then had balled into a fist. "Aww..." she whined as she unclenched her hand and returned it to her side. Ozma added a little seriousness to his demeanor. "Congratulations, Nene. Pixie Team will undoubtedly continue to shine under your guidance." "Thank you, Sir," Nene said, and saluted her commanding officer.

…

On the Eksidos, the officers' mess was teeming with activity. The room resembled a fine dining restaurant, reserved only for the upper crust of society. It seemed like they really took good care of their officers on the ship; rewarding their hard work with some of the best perks available within the NUNS. Despite the abundance of officers partaking of their meals at the time, Klan sat alone at her table. It was easy to tell that her mind was very preoccupied by something. Two or three minutes would pass in between each of her bites, indicating that eating was not the highest priority for her at the time.

Today's Queadluun testing went off without a hitch. The new prototype performed flawlessly, even though the technicians would not allow Klan to treat it so roughly this time. They were almost afraid to let her have the controls, for fear of what she might do to push its performance too hard. The meeting with her new squadron also went well. Klan was confident that she had already asserted herself as the new leader of her rowdy band of roughnecks. Her recent experience in handling certain free-spirited individuals has come in handy, even though she had decided on a different punishment than was previously discussed for them. Some simple PT was just the right touch; enough to let her pilots know that she was not going to allow any discord to fester. They seemed to be a bit pudgy around their midsections anyways...

The only thing that could possibly be worrying her is the state of the fleet, still encircling the system in search of any signs of Galaxy's location. Her dream from the night before could very well be a premonition of things to come, but it could also just be as meaningless as all of the rest of the dreams that one experiences throughout their lifetime. Still, Klan just had to carefully analyze the meaning of her nocturnal vision. Most dreams are manifestations of either one's deepest desires, or one's deepest fears... maybe even both at the same time.

Then, there was the issue of Michael's appearance in her dream. Could he possibly be trying to reach her from the "other side", or was he just a creation of her own mind? Regardless of the answer, she was faced with a revealing question. All of her adult life, she had hesitated to tell Michael how she felt about him. In the end, it turned out that they had both waited too long to say what needed to be said. It seems that her subconscious is now preoccupied with the possibility that the fleet may be in danger and she'll never get the chance to set things straight with Cal. She has obviously come to appreciate all that he's done for her and everything that he is to her, but that doesn't mean that she'll feel the same way about him that he does for her. You can really care about someone without having to be by their side as more than just a friend, but it's not as significant as when you share a bond with someone whom you truly love and they return that emotion in kind.

"Do you mind if I join you?" a voice sounded and rattled Klan back to reality. She looked at Jormun, who was holding his food tray, and thought about his question for just one second. "Knock yourself out," she casually stated. Jormun took a seat and unfurled his napkin before placing it on his lap. While he began to add a couple of condiments to his meal, he initiated conversational small-talk to alleviate any tension that Klan may still have reserved for him.

"So, what do you think of the new prototype?" Klan did not turn her face towards him, only her eyes. The gesture indicated that she was still not happy with him over something he did several years ago. However, given the position that she was in; how Jormun has made an effort to give her a huge career opportunity and asked nothing in return, she had to at least try to not give him a cold shoulder. "It was everything I had expected it to be," she said as she finally turned her head towards him and continued, "You guys have done a pretty good job in listening to other pilots and using their advice as input on the design features. Your diligence has produced one hell of a fighter."

Jormun was glad that Klan quickly changed her demeanor and actually complimented his hard work, although the compliment was not quite deserved. "No, the design team is who deserves your applause. I am just the one responsible for staffing the team and serving a supporting role to the project." She had to appreciate that he was quick to redirect her kind words away from himself in a gesture of modesty. That certainly is something that is different in him than from the Jormun she knew from a few years ago. She nodded in response and took a bite of her food.

He was still a bit curious about the test results. Even though he was spectating the entire time, he wanted to get her firsthand opinion, rather than rely on a bunch of numbers that spat out onto the computer monitors on the bridge. "Did they implement a satisfactory fix to the aiming problem you pointed out a couple of days ago?" Klan had just finished her bite and answered, "Mm-hmm. It's actually quite ingenious... they programmed the computer to use reference points on the arms to generate a virtual line on my display. Wherever I move the arms, the display projects the lines off into the distance, gives me range information, and actually curves the line based on my current speed and direction of movement. It's way better than physically projecting a light beam through space. Doing so might actually give away my position or tell someone where I am aiming."

Jormun smiled at her response. "Good! I'm glad they got that fixed so fast for you. I can't tell you how valuable your input has been so far already. I'm really glad you were available for this assignment." Klan was finding it a bit difficult to accept his kind words, but she managed to squeeze out a positive response. "Well, thanks for bringing me in for this project. I can already tell that I'm going to thoroughly enjoy this assignment." He looked down at his food as he prepared a bite and started to chuckle and slightly shake his head.

"What? What's so funny?" Klan asked. Jormun stopped laughing and answered, "You're starting to make me regret not calling you back all those years ago..." It was tough to tell if he was trying to put their past behind them, or if he was actually making a pass at her. Klan didn't want to wait around to find out and quickly changed the subject. "Anyway... What's the next phase of testing ahead of us?" Jormun gathered himself back up and returned to a more professional demeanor. "We'll be taking the ship into orbit and begin the space-based testing tomorrow," he replied.

The news was pleasing to Klan, but there was something more that she was wanting to hear. "I have a request to ask of you, if you don't mind," she said. Jormun was receptive of her impending question, "Sure. What can I help you with?" "Would it be possible to allow me to return to the deployed fleet very soon? …Just for a day or maybe even a few hours?" Jormun's face showed disappointment. "Sorry, but I can't allow you to go back. Not only is their current location a classified matter, we don't have the time to stall the project to fill that request. I wish I could help you, but it's completely out of my control. I don't even think the Captain could approve such a request."

The answer was quite disappointing, but knowing Klan, that wouldn't be where she stops. Having connections throughout the NUNS chain of command can come in handy sometimes. Cathy would definitely be a good place to start... heck, even Klan's mother might be able to help, seeing as how she had spent her career as an NUNS officer. "Oh, I see..." she said with a hint of dejection in her voice, "Oh, well. There's a lot of work to be done! If you'll excuse me..." she said as she picked up her now-empty tray and left. Jormun had a feeling that she was up to no good, but he couldn't be sure since he still did not yet know her that well.

…

Dinner was being served in the Quarter's mess hall as well, and the room was packed with off-duty crew looking to stuff their faces before beginning their shifts, or winding down their day in preparation for sleep. The rest of the crew was hard at work on active duty. Pixie Team was one of the lucky groups of crew who was on the list of people getting ready to end their day and catch some rest. First things first, though... Will and Nene walked together from the mess line towards the table that Cal had been saving for them. As they approached him, they noticed he was not really eating, but concentrating on something in front of him. A small, paperback book laid open beside him and he periodically would look over to read it for a moment and then turn his attention back to what was on the table directly in front of him.

"What the heck are you doing?" Will asked as he sat down at the table. He noticed that Cal was fooling with a garbled-up wad of colored paper. Before answering, Cal sighed in frustration, tossed the wad of paper towards Will, and threw himself backwards into his chair. "Origami is bullshit!" he said. Will looked over to the book that Cal had open and he realized that it was instructions on how to create an origami figurine. Cal grabbed his dinner tray and began to shovel food into his mouth before it got any colder.

Will and Nene looked at each other with puzzled looks on their faces. "Why are you trying to learn origami?" Nene asked. Cal stopped shoveling food in his mouth and put up his index finger to tell Nene to wait a minute so he could finish chewing. Several moments passed and he grimaced as he swallowed more than his throat could probably handle. A couple of quick pounding thrusts to his chest and he exhaled in satisfaction, having worked the food all the way down his esophagus. "I happened to see Lieutenant Saotome making one of these things and I was immediately captivated by it. He gave me this book to help me learn how to do it. However, some knuckle-dragging monkey must have written this thing because I can't figure out the diagrams in some cases!"

Will smiled, rather than laugh, at Cal's frustration. "So... you run into something you _can't_ do well, and all you can do is criticize it and get mad at it, huh?" Cal glared at Will in anger for basically hitting the nail on the head. Out of protest, he shoved his food out of the way and grabbed the book again. Taking another sheet of paper from the back of the book, he flipped back to the diagrams he was previously working on and got back to work.

Nene was still a little curious. "Wait, Alto always makes paper airplanes. I wonder why he'd be compelled to take up origami? I guess it's just a fancier way to make paper airplanes..." Cal answered while still working on his attempt. "Yeah, he said he just got a little bored with plain paper planes and wanted to broaden his horizons a bit. His figurines looked awesome and I thought 'I can do that too!' He showed me a few basics and then gave me his book because he had to get ready for his sortie."

They watched Cal struggle with the paper for a bit before Nene began to speak again. "Um, I have to tell you guys that we need to fill our vacant spot in Pixie Team now. I know that Ozma is busy finding a new executive officer, but I figure I'd take the initiative and find someone myself so he doesn't have to do it. Are you guys okay with that?" A couple of grunts from the two male members of the team was all she could hear. After hesitating at their responses, she continued, "Uh, okay... I was thinking about inviting that pilot we flew with yesterday. He did a pretty good job of keeping himself alive and actually got a few kills while he was out there with us. The one we had today was pretty green; he'd never be able to keep up with us."

Cal began to growl at his newest origami effort and eventually crumbled it up and threw it across the room in frustration. He sighed and responded to Nene as he reached into the book for yet another piece of paper, "That sounds good, actually. I could use someone in the team to give me an ego boost every day, kind of like how he did after we sanitized that group of Vajra yesterday." Will and Nene clicked their tongues and shook their heads at Cal's response. He smirked at their reactions; he was just saying that to get under their skin.

"Well, in that case, maybe he isn't the best choice. We can't have your head ballooning too big inside of that helmet of yours while you're flying," Will said. Cal just kept on smiling while he focused his attention on the figurine he was working on. "You got anyone better in mind?" he asked. "Good question," Nene said. After deliberating for a moment, Will and Nene realized that they'd have to make some sacrifices in order to get their team back to full strength as quickly as possible. They nodded at each other and Nene finalized the decision, "Okay, fine... It's settled, then. I'll let Ozma know so he can get the ball rolling."

"Ha! Finally!" Cal exclaimed, as if he was responding to Nene's statement. Instead, he held his masterpiece above his head with both hands and began to emit a high-pitched note from his mouth. It was as if he was mimicking a heavenly choir with his falsetto voice. He slowly lowered his hands, making it seem like his figurine was descending from the heavens. Once his hands rested on the table, he held a version of the quintessential origami crane; the usual first-time creation of anyone learning the art of folding paper. "What do you think about _that_?" he rhetorically asked.

Will performed a golf-clap in response. "Good for you... Now try something that's not for beginners." Cal's smile quickly evaporated from his face and he glared into Will's eyes, like he was trying to stare him into submission. Without even looking at it, he grabbed the book at his side, ripped another sheet of paper from the back, and turned to the next exercise. Will seemed to enjoy pushing Cal's buttons a bit. It was nice to get to turn the tables on him, for a change. He reclined in his chair and continued to eat his meal, entertained by the sideshow being performed for him right at his own table. Even Nene got quiet and smiled while she spectated.

A couple of minutes on the next exercise, and Cal had already screwed it up. " Grrr!" he growled while he forcefully crumbled the paper into the smallest wad his strength would allow. Another sheet popped out of the book and Will continued to smile as he watched. "I wonder if they serve popcorn from the galley..." he casually said. "I'll go find out," Nene said before she got up from her chair to talk to one of the cooks. Cal ignored their heckling and continued to focus all of his mental might and manual dexterity on his figurine. It seemed like there was a steady stream of steam coming out from his ears.

…

A small handful of technicians were wrapping up their work in the quarantined area of the Eksidos's hangar. Following a strong yawn, one of them spoke up to the others as he looked at his watch, "Goddamn, it's getting late. Let's get out of here, guys. We have a lot to do in the morning." The other workers agreed and started to put their equipment away. Looking around him to see if everyone was accounted for, one of the technicians noticed Klan sitting at one of the tables. She had a computer terminal in front of her, but she was sound asleep on the keyboard.

He quietly approached her to wake her, but he remembered hearing some stories about her explosive temper. "_Maybe I should just let her sleep..._" he thought to himself as he backed away. He grabbed a labcoat that was hanging on the wall and draped it over her back to serve as a blanket. After carefully placing it on her, he tiptoed away and rejoined his co-workers at the door. They shut off all of the lights in the room, but left the desk lamp on near Klan so she could see when she finally awoke. Once the doors shut behind them, Klan opened her eyes. She wasn't sleeping... she was waiting.

…

The lights on the bridge were set to low levels, just the way Monica preferred it while she was on duty as the bridge commander. Third shift always passed by quietly, with a minimal amount of chatter. It seemed that the crew assigned to this shift was still rather unfamiliar with each other, but hopefully they'd begin to gain a sense of comfort after some more time working together.

Monica kept a close eye on her console when she noticed the radar operator was fidgeting in his chair. The operator would occasionally look back towards Monica and then return his gaze to the radar output. Curious about the operator's erratic behavior, she got up from her chair and approached the radar station from behind. To keep the bridge's atmosphere quiet, she leaned down and gently spoke to the radar operator.

"What's the matter, Lieutenant?" Monica asked. "I don't know, Ma'am. There's this bizarre reading coming from this quadrant at a range of about a thousand kilometers. It's relative position to us has remained unchanged for the last few minutes," he said as he pointed out a blurry return on the projection. Monica stared at it for a moment before answering him. "It could be a malfunction. Did you run a diagnostic test on the system?" "No, Ma'am. I'll start it right now." He began to punch in his commands onto the keyboard console in front of him. Monica knew that it would take a couple of minutes to run, so she went back to her chair to wait.

Silence filled the air once again while the radar operator ran the diagnostic on his systems. After a couple of minutes, he turned around to look at Monica once again. She joined him at the radar station so he could give her the result of the tests. "Everything checks out fine, Ma'am. The anomaly is still holding a steady position and distance from us." Monica glared at the radar projection for another moment, using all of her expertise to come up with an answer. "_I've seen this somewhere..._" she thought to herself. "Show me the fold wave spectrum readout of the area," she ordered.

The operator switched the output on the projection and it showed the flow of fold waves throughout the fleet. As was expected, all of the ships were reflecting fold waves from other sources around it, and were also emanating their own fold waves, which were caused by their engines operating at nominal levels. Even the surrounding planetoids were reflecting the waves being tossed about by the fleet. However, the anomalous blob seemed to be refracting the waves, rather than either reflecting them or letting them pass straight through. A curious reading, indeed...

"Show me the EM spectrum readout." The projection changed colors again to display the electromagnetic waves that passed through the fleet. As the distance from the fleet increased, the fidelity of the projection decreased until it was nothing but a blur. The asteroids were inhibiting the sensors from seeing too far beyond the perimeter of the fleet. "Zoom in on the anomaly," Monica ordered. The operator punched in his commands and gave the result a good, hard look. "Ma'am, it's as if the EM waves are reflecting off of the anomaly... like it was solid metal. Look, it's the same return that we'd get from any one of our non-stealthed ships," he said as he zoomed back out to show part of the fleet. Monica nodded and stood back up to look out of the bridge and into space towards the position of the anomalous reading.

"Can you give me an optical zoom of that area?" "Yes, Ma'am." A new window opened up on the bridge's main screen to show ordinary asteroids. There was one rather large asteroid amongst the usual ones, but it was moving faster than its diminutive neighbors. It was a speed relative to the fleet's and Monica began to think about what all of these signs meant. "_I know I've seen these radar readouts before somewhere... I can't recall exactly what it was, but I know that it was associated with heavy combat in my memory_," she thought to herself. She had to make a decision before much more time passed.

She stood up and began to give orders to her bridge crew. "Put the ship on general alert until we've found out what is going on. If the shit hits the fan, be ready to issue a combat alert," she said as she returned to her seat. "Page the Captain and begin charging the Macross Cannon. Helmsman, turn the ship 32 degrees to starboard and pitch up 12 degrees," she ordered. "Roger that!" She punched several keys on her console at the Captain's chair to confirm her calculations. The ship subsystems controller turned around to speak to Monica, "But we don't have authorization to fire!" "I know that, Lieutenant. That's why the Captain has been paged. Once he gets here, he can make the decision. At least then, we will be ready to fire if he orders us to do so." The controller nodded and turned back towards his console to continue monitoring and administrating the ship's systems operations.

As if it was reacting to the Quarter's reposturing and the charging of its Macross Cannon, the anomaly began to emit a faint fold wave of its own. The radar operator turned to Monica once again, "Ma'am, there is now a fold wave emanating from the anomaly!" Monica stood up and looked at the communications officer. "Display the wave's spectrum analysis on the main monitor!" The output was also vaguely familiar to Monica, as if she had seen it somewhere before very recently. Suddenly, she remembered seeing that same pattern playing repeatedly from Lam's monitors when she was working with Luca on the fold wave recording that Cal had sent to the ship while he was on patrol near Coral-5.

Within seconds, the radar station began to sound several alarms and warning chirps. "Multiple defold reactions have been detected all around us! There are a lot of large, cruiser-sized signatures mixed in with countless fighter-sized signatures," the radar operator reported as the projection showed the location of the hundreds of defolds about to take place. "What?" Monica reacted. The distant space was now peppered with portals leading to super-dimension space before Vajra cruisers and drones began to emerge from them.

Monica whipped her eyes to the side a bit towards the source of the anomalous readings and gritted her teeth. It seemed to be taunting her, knowing full well that she could not figure out what it was. "Helmsman?" she asked. "The ship is in firing position and the Macross Cannon is fully-charged, Ma'am!" Monica thought about the right decision for a split second before she blurted out her next command. "Fire the Macross Cannon!" she yelled. The helmsman hesitated for a moment, "We don't have the authority to fire!" Monica began to storm towards the helmsman. "We are under attack, Lieutenant! Does the concept of 'shoot first and ask questions later' not mean anything to you? It's either us or them!" The helmsman changed his demeanor and looked forward out of the ship with a newfound determination. "Fire the Macross Cannon!" Monica ordered once again. This time, the helmsman pulled the trigger on his controls without any hesitation.


	30. A Show of Force

A/N: Ah, I originally posted this chapter without putting this note on here... cuz I forgot about it. I make mention of an "Altair-class" carrier used by the Galaxy forces, but it's sort of non-canon. In the series, there was the green-colored Deneb-class cruisers, but there was also an orange-colored carrier that was never officially named. I decided to give it a name for the sake of the flow of the story. It'd sound pretty dumb if I said something like "orange-colored carrier" whenever I wrote about one in the story, right? I chose the name "Altair", because it's one of the three vertices of the Summer Triangle in astronomy. Deneb and Vega are the other two vertices... obviously, I chose this name because of the Deneb-class cruiser being named after the star. Okay, now that that's out of the way, it's about to get messy! -(07/22/10)

* * *

The soft glow from the LED's of various electronic devices lit Cal's and Will's quarters with a faint light while they soundly slept in their bunks. A perfect silence filled the room, allowing them to rest without distraction. With a violent and sudden arrival, the room began to vibrate uncontrollably from the effects of the Macross Cannon's discharge. Both pilots shot up from their reclined postures in reaction; Cal met the underside of Will's bunk with his head again. "Goddammit!" he yelled in pain. Suddenly, the speakers began to sound an alert. A klaxon blared while the voice of the ship's subsystems controller spoke, "Red alert! All squadrons, scramble! Scramble! Scramble! This is not a drill!"

Cal and Will both rolled out of their beds and dashed out the door, not even bothering to put on their uniforms... there's no time. Running too fast to properly turn the corner, both of them slammed into the wall and used their hands to grapple themselves forward again in the new direction. Several groups of crew had to stand aside to allow the pilots and essential personnel get to their battle stations without getting in their way. Cal and Will both eventually joined several other pilots who were barreling down the hallway towards the hangar locker room to change into their flightsuits. Most of them charged down the hall barefooted and wearing only their boxers and tanktops, just like Cal and Will.

Captain Wilder leaned against the wall of the elevator when he felt the vibrating effect of the Macross Cannon ripping through the ship's structure. "Oh shit! She didn't just fire...?" he said to himself. The triple-helix formation of energy tore its way past the capital ships in the fleet, nearly grazing a couple of them on the way to its target. Instead of hitting the large planetoid with its terrible destructive force, the Macross Cannon's energy passed through the surface and impacted something on the other side. Immediately, the asteroid's image dissipated to reveal one of Galaxy's Altair-class carriers hiding behind the illusion. The front side of the carrier received the brunt of the Quarter's Macross Cannon blast, destroying several recently-launched fighters and Ghosts, along with the fighter bays and launch catapults. The ensuing gravity wave caused by the Macross Cannon rippled outward from the blast, further twisting and warping the carrier's structure.

From the bridge, Monica watched the result of her orders. "Report!" she barked. "It's an Altair-class carrier! It's taken severe damage, but it looks like it is still not completely destroyed!" Without hesitation, Monica gave her next order. "Charge the Macross Cannon again! This time, we're going to finish that asshole off!" "Yes, Ma'am!" Before any other words could be exchanged, the door to the bridge flew open and Captain Wilder dashed in. "What happened?" he yelled. Monica turned from where she was standing and stood at attention with a salute. "Sir! A large Vajra fleet has emerged from hyperspace and we have opened fire on a Galaxy carrier that was using a hologram to hide itself from our sensors!"

Captain Wilder took his seat, but he was not happy with Monica having overstepped her bounds. "Why did you fire without authorization?" "Sir! I did what I thought was best, according to the situation. I had good reason to believe that we were coming under attack and gave the order to fire. Basic military strategy teaches us that the first attack is always the most important one!" Monica curtly replied. Wilder looked at her for a moment and smiled at the abundance of confidence in her decisions. "Very true... You can give me the details later. I need you to take your old post at the radar station for now!" "Yes, Sir!" Monica replied while saluting, "Captain, we've already begun recharging the Macross Cannon after our first shot. The ship is positioned to finish off the Altair-class carrier that we damaged!" Captain Wilder nodded at Monica, somewhat appreciative of her previous decisions and the thoroughness of her briefing.

Monica took her seat as the other radar operator got up to make room for her. He handed her the communication headset he was wearing and began to walk away from the station before Monica grabbed his uniform to keep him from leaving. "Wait. Just stay here and watch. I might need your help and you definitely need to be here to learn some of my tricks," she said with a smile. He found a non-imposing spot to stand while he watched the master do her magic.

The rest of the first shift began to show up one by one to take their positions on the bridge. Jen stood next to the on-duty FCO, listening to the radio chatter going on with the pilots as they were being launched from the Quarter's flight deck. She patiently listened until she could find a good point to jump in and take over her position full-time. Bobby quickly took his position from the helmsman, following a brief summary of the ship's current orientation and status. Mena and Lam did pretty much the same, taking over their duties without skipping a beat.

"Lam!" Captain Wilder barked, "Open a channel to the fleet!" "Yes, Sir!" Wilder punched in a few keys on his console before turning his gaze outwards to the massive battle raging on in the distance. "To all ships, This is Fleet Captain Wilder! It seems that the scoundrels of Macross Galaxy have managed to maintain control over the Vajra swarm. They seek to destroy us and disrupt our precious colony on Aimo. For what reason, we may never know, but I don't intend to wait around and find out! All squadrons are hereby authorized to use MDE bombs to soften the attack! We will hit them hard and fast, before they are able to inflict too much damage on this fleet! To all Zentraedi gunboats, we are depending on you to decimate the fleet of capital ships with your beam cannons. Here is your chance to contribute to the success of the colony. Make us proud, brothers!"

Captain Wilder was not about to pull any punches. He was determined to do whatever it takes to save the lives of his soldiers. Without hesitation, the Zentraedi gunboats repostured their ships into firing positions with zeal. Simultaneously, each gunboat divided its hull in two to expose the booms of their beam cannons, as if the ships were baring their sharp teeth. Super-dimensional energy began to collimate and ascend the booms in the form of a Jacob's ladder. After several seconds of charging, the gunboats discharged their fury onto the Vajra cruisers. Each ship recoiled from the sudden and violent release of energy towards their targets. The Vajra cruisers hurriedly returned fire before the barrage of Zentraedi artillery hit them. The exchange was devastating for both sides, and it was hard to tell which side took the most damage. There were multiple capital ship casualties as the two groups tore through each other with their energy-based lances, much like the spearmen of ancient Earth.

...

Even though Aimo was several astronomical units away, certain hard-to-explain forces exerted their influences over various individuals living in and around Frontier City. Ranka stood out on the balcony of her apartment, looking up at the twilight sky. Behind her sat an empty bed with disturbed blankets and a clock on the nightstand that read the current time, 3:21 AM. A look of consternation and worry covered her face while she gently gripped her abdomen with one hand. Undoubtedly, the Vajra microbes that inhabited her intestinal tract were resonating the feelings of nearby drones to her. "Nearby", being an operative word; to the Vajra, a few astronomical units were a mere pittance when compared to the expanse of their influence in the galaxy.

Just as Ranka's eyes began to water, she was startled by her cell phone coming alive at the reaction of an incoming call. She didn't have to look at it to see who was calling, she just put it up to her ear and opened the line. "Sheryl?" A moment of silence followed before the voice on the other side finally spoke. "I feel it too..." it said. Sheryl's condition was similar to Ranka's and even though her connection to the Vajra was not as profound, it was still enough to resonate those feelings within her as well.

Ranka looked down towards the sleeping city below her. "It's not just 'them'... it's something else," Ranka said into the phone. She was feeling something other than what was physically being transmitted through her body by the microbes in her intestines. Again, dead air occupied the telephone connection between the two songstresses. Sheryl's voice cut through the silence once more, "Alto." Ranka nodded, even though she knew that Sheryl could not see her agreeing gesture.

Both women tried desperately to explain to themselves the 'other' feeling that was now resonating through their bodies. The Vajra microbes were better understood by their hosts, making it easy to come to the conclusion that Vajra drones were dying at that moment. However, they couldn't explain how they were feeling the sense of urgency and desperation from whatever source it was coming from. Deep inside of their subconsciousness, the profound connection they held with certain individuals in the fleet was being disturbed by a supernatural force.

Suddenly, Ranka could hear Sheryl softly singing into the phone; most likely because it was the best way she knew how to deal with the sensations going through her body at the time. Ranka smiled at the phone and joined in the singing. A lovely duet emanated from the balcony and seemed to cover the city in a thin blanket of emotion. Their desire was most likely meant to save those individuals who were now fighting for their survival in outer space; Human, Zentraedi, **and** Vajra.

Cathy laid sleeping on her desk at home; several tablets and notebooks were sprawled about the surface. A desk lamp shone onto her face, but the light was not what was disturbing her sleep. She sleepily opened her eyes and blinked several times, before sitting up and yawning. She began to wonder why there was a strange feeling overcoming her body. She sat up at her desk and blankly stared forward, focusing her mind on interpreting the sensation overpowering her emotions.

Even Nanase laid awake in bed, curled up and embracing a plush doll in her arms. For reasons she couldn't explain, she was not able to fall back to sleep, no matter what position she laid in. The comfort and security the plush doll was meant to give to her was not enough to put her mind at ease. She unfurled her arms and held up the doll to get a good look at it. Modeled after her dear Luca, it wore a goofy smile and rosy cheeks, along with a replica of his NUNS uniform. The sight of this effigy of Luca was enough to stoke her desire to hold the real thing in her arms, once again.

The silhouette of a man lying on his back with his arms behind his head occupied the space in front of a dimly-lit window. Little more than the reflective shine of his moistened eyes could be seen from the right perspective. A faint knock sounded on his door and it slowly opened. "Dad...?" a child's voice said. The man turned to the door and responded, "Eddie, what's the matter?" The child stood at the door, rubbing his eyes with one hand and dragging a blanket behind him with the other hand. "I can't sleep." His father turned down the blanket on the unoccupied side of his bed, inviting his son to hop in. Without hesitation, the child climbed up to the bed and curled up next to his father's warm body. Putting his arm around his son, he spoke again, "Neither can I, Eddie..."

Somewhere on the Eksidos, Klan was busily punching keys on the console in front of her when her mind was hit with a feeling of sudden alertness. The sensation was akin to a jolt of electricity coursing through her body, causing her to stop what she was doing and gasp in reaction. Her instincts could not deny that there was a meaning to this sudden feeling of danger. Even though she had no way of knowing exactly what it was, it was more than enough to cause her to put more focus into her work. She finished her typing and pounded the enter key on the keyboard. Klan immediately got up from her chair and dashed away after she grabbed a duffel bag that was sitting on the floor next to her.

Ranka rested her phone on the bannister with one of her hands, while she continued to hold her stomach with the other. She continued to sing with Sheryl over the phone when she heard a knock at her door. "Ranka? Are you alright? I heard voices coming from your room..." She picked up her phone and spoke to the individual on the other side, "Sheryl, I'll call you right back." "Okay..." Ranka walked over to the door and opened it to reveal Brera, who was wearing his pajamas. The door across the hallway was opened and his bed could be seen with disturbed covers, just like Ranka's bed.

Brera could tell that Ranka was upset about something and it was his duty as her loving brother to find out what it is so he can make her feel better about it. "You've been singing, haven't you? Why?" he asked. "I don't know. Something horrible is happening out there and I guess I just feel like I have to try to do _something_ about it. I know that when I sing, incredible things happen, so it seems like the logical thing to do in this case, right?" Brera looked into Ranka's bedroom towards the open balcony door. "Is it the fleet?" he inquired. Ranka hesitantly nodded; she wasn't one-hundred percent sure, but it was most likely the correct assumption.

Brera gently gripped her shoulder and nudged her to turn around and head back out to the balcony. "Then don't let me stop you. Sing. Let 'them' know how you feel, whoever it is that deserves your love." Ranka reached up and touched his hand and smiled, "Brera..." The two siblings walked out onto the balcony as Ranka dialed Sheryl up again. Just moments later, Brera stood leaning forward against the bannister looking up into space with a satisfied smile as he listened to his sister singing. Ranka had placed her phone on the bannister and continued to sing with Sheryl over the phone. She stood looking up into space with her hands clenched together in front of her chest. She and Sheryl broadcast their every desire in all directions, hoping that their emotions could touch the hearts of those whom they cared about the most.

...

Out in the extremities of the fleet, Alto and his Vermillion Team had their hands full helping to repel the Vajra attack. Having already been deployed on escort duty at the time, they were witness to the beginning of the battle from a front-row seat. In fact, their position was almost compromised by the Quarter's firing of the Macross Cannon in their direction. This meant that they were very close to the now-crippled Galaxy carrier and only one thing was on Alto's mind, to finish it off before it causes the fleet any damage.

After clearing the immediate vicinity of hostile drones, Alto transformed his VF into fighter mode and took off towards the carrier. "Let's go, pilots!" he said, "We need to strike that carrier fast!" He didn't get very far when Jen's voice crackled over the comm lines. "Vermillion Team, hold your positions until the rest of the squadron has been launched! The Quarter will take care of the carrier as soon as the Macross Cannon finishes recharging!" Alto clicked his tongue in disappointment, "Acknowledged, Quarter."

Alto's lust for a good fight did not go unquenched for long, though. A new flight of Vajra drones headed straight for the group of cruisers that he was tasked with defending on his escort shift. "Oh, no you don't..." he said while he maneuvered his team into an attack posture. Vermillion Team split up into two groups of two to engage the attackers head-on. Their combined gunpod fire struck several drones, but only one of them died. The rest of the drones broke their formation and scattered every which way, in order to make defense of the cruisers a bit more difficult.

The anti-aircraft fire from the cruisers filled the immediate space around them, but the Vajra drones were adept at avoiding the projectile fire. Still, the occasional drone would fall to the AA fire and make the pilots' jobs a bit easier. As would be expected of one of the heroes of the previous Vajra conflict before Aimo's colonization, Alto effortlessly shredded through the ranks of the Vajra drones. Even the pilots in his team held their own, when it came to shooting down drones. Unfortunately, not all of the fighter teams in the fleet were faring as well as Vermillion Team.

From the Quarter's flight deck, Ozma could see the devastation taking place in the distance. Each of the fleet's carriers and cruisers were furiously defending themselves from the onslaught of Vajra drones and artillery fire. Hostile beam cannons cut swaths of destruction through the fleet's formation, but their fire was being returned in kind by the newly-added Zentraedi gunboats and battleships. If it was one thing that the miclones lacked in the designs of their own cruisers, it was the inclusion of beam cannons to dish out the pain. They only focused their design on defense from fighter-sized enemies. The Zentraedi focused their cruiser design on packing a big punch. Their beam cannons were the very reason that NUNS Command ordered their deployment into the fleet. Perhaps the disparity in design philosophy was part of what make Humans and Zentrans so symbiotic.

Finally, Jen's voice sounded over his radio. "Commander, you're clear for takeoff! I'm sending your team's rendezvous coordinates now. Good luck!" "Thank you!" he said as he opened his throttle. The catapult assisted in thrusting his armored VF-25S off of the flight deck and into space alongside one of his team's VF's from the other catapult. Far behind the catapult's starting point, the third deck elevator began to ascend, bringing Kanaria's VB-6 into deployment position.

The hangar was still bustling with activity. Crews struggled to make ready all of the VFs in the hangar, but they were doing a good job of keeping up with the deck elevators. Each time the elevator would descend, a new VF was ready to taxi onto it to be lifted up to the flight deck and into launching position on the catapults. Cal and Will were among several pilots and personnel who were running across the hangar towards the locker rooms. The crew members maintained disciplined behavior by remaining within the safety lines on the hangar deck, so as to avoid getting in the way of any machinery or VFs. The other reason for the necessity of this disciplined behavior made her way out of the micloning tanks.

Nene was already in her Meltran form and had to step over the miclone crew that was scrambling across the deck below her. Cal and Will instinctively ducked a bit as she passed overhead, but once she was gone, they continued to the lockers to hop into their flightsuits as fast as humanly possible. Within moments, Nene had already closed the hatch on her Queadluun and walked it over to the same elevator that Kanaria's VB-6 was already using. She patiently waited for it to descend, seeing as how her two pilots were not yet ready to launch anyways.

...

Contrary to the sense of urgency and alertness saturating the deployed fleet that was under attack, the Zentraedi starport on Aimo remained at peace in the silent twilight. Guards stood at their posts, with nothing to oppose the completion of their duties. As if to satisfy their latent desire for a little bit of action, a distant explosion could be heard from the direction of the Eksidos, which was docked on the edge of the starport. Jormun shot up from his bed upon hearing the commotion from another part of the ship. "No way...! She wouldn't even dream of..." he said to himself as he got up and grabbed his uniform.

Jormun dashed through the halls of the ship on his way to the command deck, struggling to make himself look decent. Another explosion rocked the ship and he fell against the wall to stop himself from tumbling to the ground. He stood straight back up and dashed through the bridge's doors. "What's going on?" he exclaimed. One of the bridge operators turned to give his report. "There's been an explosion in the hangar! Security teams are converging there right now!" Jormun gritted his teeth in response.

Suddenly, one of the monitors caught a blast of engine exhaust moving away from the ship and into the atmosphere. Jormun saw it out of the corner of his eye and his fears were confirmed. "That better not be the Rasa prototype!" One of the operators confirmed its IFF signal and hesitantly nodded. Jormun slammed his hand down onto the console, which was meant to open a hailing frequency to the delinquent pilot. "Klan! I know that's you! What the hell are you doing?"

The comm lines remained silent as the Queadluun passed the out of sight of the naked eye. After a moment, the radio responded, "I'm just taking it out to test the fold booster. I figured I'd get a leg up on our testing schedule, since we're under such tight time constraints. I'll bring it back in a bit, I promise!" Jormun was not about to accept this turn of events without a fight. "That's bullshit and you know it! You are ordered to return to the ship now!"

Again, a moment of silence followed his demand. "What was that? I couldn't make out your orders! I am just now exiting the atmosphere, so the ionized particles out here are probably interfering with the radio. I will proceed with my test as planned. See you when I get back!" the radio crackled onto the bridge. "Klan, goddammit!" Jormun exclaimed. He turned to the communications officer and gave his order, "Get the Captain on the line!" "But, Sir! He's not on the ship right now...!" "Find him, then!"

Klan cut her radio and charged out of the stratosphere. As the color of the pre-dawn sky changed from navy blue to pitch black, she prepared her Queadluun Rasa for its first fold jump using the booster attached to its back. "_I hope my calculations are right. Based on the last-known position of the fleet and its average speed, I should be able to guess at its current position_," she thought to herself. A confirmation message popped up on her viewscreen, waiting for approval before executing the space fold. She closed her eyes and instructed the computer to proceed. The hum of the fold booster began to vibrate the Queadluun and she sighed in anticipation of the jump to hyperspace. A hole tore its way open into standard space, revealing the pink glow of hyperspace inside. The Queadluun confidently flew into the portal and disappeared from view, allowing the hole to snap shut behind it.

...

The severely-wounded Altair-class carrier suddenly fired up its engines and began to move directly towards the Frontier's fleet. Its posture reflected a sensation of malice as it neared the positions of the closest battlegroup. Alto began to get a little nervous, seeing as how his team of fighters, along with the rest of the nearby escorts may not be able to do anything about the gargantuan carrier barreling towards their position. "Quarter, the carrier appears to be on a collision course with these ships! What are your orders?" The radio remained silent while he waited for a response. "Quarter?" More silence followed, as if his pleas were being ignored.

Alto clicked his tongue and turned his fighter in the direction of the incoming carrier. There was no way he was going to stand by and do nothing, while thousands of crew members were set to perish from the ensuing collision and explosion. "Vermillion Team, clear the area immediately!" the radio sounded. Alto switched to battroid mode to turn and see what the Quarter was doing. He could see that the ship was quickly approaching the area with a very menacing stance. Its Macross Cannon coursed with super-dimensional energy, indicating that it was ready to fire once again.

"Fire!" Captain Wilder exclaimed to his bridge crew. Bobby confidently squeezed the trigger; a feeling that he will never get tired of experiencing. "Ram this!" he yelled. The Macross Cannon discharged its second shot directly into the remaining hull of the Altair-class carrier. It punched a hole right through the center of the ship and passed through to continue through space unabated. Alto and his team barely managed to avoid being in the line of fire, but the gravity wave rippled through their VFs, violently jarring the pilots in their seats.

The gaping hole in the center of the ship began to increase in size, as the molecular structure of the ship dissolved at the subatomic level. Before the ship's reactors reached critical, a large-scale dimension-eater bomb detonated from within its hull. "Oh shit! It's a dimension-eater! Get the hell out of there!" Alto exclaimed to his team and all of the nearby escort VFs. The dimensional rift quickly expanded to massive proportions, consuming everything that it touched. All of the planetoids nearby were the first to go, but the distance that once separated the carrier from the Frontier fleet was also quickly compromised. The cruisers and carriers nearby burned their thrusters at full power to list away from the incoming rift. Their slow acceleration was heart-wrenching to all of the witnesses of this display of awful destruction.

Alto's radio began to fill with the screams of pilots who were either being consumed by the bomb, or were on the verge of being destroyed. On the bridge of the Quarter, the same screams could be heard over the comm lines. Everyone on the bridge focused their will into the hope that those poor souls will somehow escape unharmed. The dimensional rift continued to expand and draw closer to the fleet. Behind him, Alto could see each fighter fall into the bomb's destructive radius and even witnessed many Vajra drones get consumed by it. Suddenly, two of his own pilots yelled out in terror and he turned just in time to see them disappear behind the rift. "No!" he exclaimed. Their disappearance fed his anger towards the attacking force, but all he could focus on was making sure that he survived.

The battlegroup of cruisers and carriers desperately tried to outrun the expanding rift, but eventually, the first cruiser fell into it. Hundreds of lives instantly perished, and the destruction was not yet over. More screams of terror filled the fleet's comm lines while another cruiser was slowly consumed. When it seemed like the destruction would not end, the bomb's effects wore out and the rift quickly retracted back into a singularity; its point of origin. With a final glimmer, the singularity disappeared from space, leaving behind a spherical swath of space sanitized of all matter. One of the cruisers, which had been partially consumed, was snapped back towards the contracting singularity before it slowed its speed and then exploded. The remaining capital ships continued their charge towards safer space, ignoring their proximity to each other. Several ships collided in their desperation for survival, sending debris flying in all directions.

A witness to the destruction and terror caused by such a terrible device, Alto turned his fury towards the bulk of the attacking force and began to charge blindly into the thick of the battle. "Alto! Get your ass back here and form on my wing! We're going in to unload some hurt onto those Galaxy bastards!" Ozma barked over the radio. Ozma and his team charged through space; each ship carried a pair of MDE bombs. Alto clicked his tongue and turned his VF towards their direction. Within moments, he and the remaining pilot in his team formed up on Ozma's wing to make sure their packages were delivered successfully.

Not far behind them was Kanaria's Rabbit Team. They flew in formation around her VB-6 Monster; one RVF-25 with a super pack, and two VF's with armored packs. One 25F and one 25G were armed to the teeth, ready to unload their salvos onto the first pack of hostile forces they could find. Rabbit Team's job was to provide the heavy fire support that was needed to break the backs of hostile defenses. Therefore, Captain Wilder had authorized the use of armored packs on her team. Unfortunately for the RVF pilot, his bird was not compatible with the armored pack, so he was fine with the next best thing, a super pack.

Rabbit team allowed several Vajra drones to pass behind them before they picked out their spot to camp out and support the fleet's attacking forces. "Alright, guys... Let's show them some terror of our own!" Kanaria barked to her team. "Roger that!" they all exclaimed. Her VB began to transform into its GERWALK form in preparation for the firing of its main guns. As she impacted on the surface of a large asteroid, her pilots took equidistant positions around their team leader. All three transformed to battroid mode and each pilot's eyes began to lock their complement of missiles onto the hundreds of targets surrounding them. After several seconds, each of the hatches on the armored pack opened up to reveal the countless missiles stored inside. Like a grand fireworks display, the missiles hurled in all directions and left their smoke trails behind.

Kanaria's VB fortified itself onto the asteroid's surface and reared upwards to fire. With the backdrop of hundreds of smoke trails from her team's missile salvo, the rail guns fired and caused the Monster to recoil from the sudden propulsion of its artillery into space. The shells quietly traveled through space, only propelled by their inertia, until they neared their targets. The verniers on the shells then fired, causing the salvo to split up before detonating. It was a maneuver designed to maximize the effect of the Monster's artillery strikes.

Each missile fired from Rabbit Team's VFs began to find their targets. The nearby space was instantly filled with the combined destructive force of those missiles and the artillery shells fired by the VB. Before the light show was over, the 25G landed onto the asteroid near Kanaria and took his sniping position. The RVF and 25F began to work on sanitizing the rest of the vicinity of hostile targets to allow the sniper and Monster to continue their barrage.

Not far away, Ozma and Alto led their teams into the heart of the battle with vengeance written all over their motives. Luca remained in formation behind Ozma, monitoring the positions of hostile and friendly forces. "Squad Leader, we have multiple incoming! There are some Ghost V-9s heading straight for us, among the many Vajra drones!" "Acknowledged," Ozma replied. It was now time to unload their vengeance upon the incoming targets. Only a large group of Vajra drones and Galaxy fighters stood in between the attacking Frontier forces and the remaining Galaxy and Vajra cruisers in the distance.

Ozma flipped the switch on his control stick and pressed the firing button. The MDE bombs detached themselves from the sides of his VF and their engines fired up to separate themselves from their former carrier. Upon seeing this action from their leader, the rest of Ozma's team fired their complement of MDE bombs. The pilots watched their furious answers to the kamikaze carrier hurl through space until they finally detonated. A brief sensation of satisfaction filled their bodies as they watched the attacking forces get decimated by the tactical bombs.

However, Ozma noticed that the Ghost V-9 fighters had made their way into their immediate space. He transformed his VF into battroid mode in preparation to defend himself from the vicious robots. Instead of engaging the VF's, the Ghosts passed right by Ozma's and Alto's teams. Ozma's eyes were quick enough to see that they were each carrying an MDE bomb, ventrally attached to their bodies. "Shit! They have MDE bombs! Everyone get the hell away from them!"

Just in time, the entire formation of VF-25s scattered in the right directions to clear the effective radii of the bombs before they detonated. Several flights of VF-171EXs and Nousjadeul-Gers were unaware of the approaching weapons of mass-destruction and they had little to no time to react. The dimensional rifts swallowed whole squadrons, sending more screams of terror coursing through the fleet's comm lines. This fight was quickly turning into a very bloody battle, with countless casualties racking up on both sides.

With each casualty they witnessed, the remaining pilots strengthened their resolve to avenge their fallen comrades. Human and Zentraedi soldiers fought side by side to furiously drive back the relentless attacks from the combined Galaxy and Vajra forces. All around them, the terrifying destruction being dealt out from both factions raged on with no end in sight. Unknown to them, they were being bathed by fold waves of a familiar source. Only those in tune with the fold spectrum would know of their existence.

On the Quarter, Captain Wilder continued to administrate the fleet's defense from his chair. Commanders Ortiz and Choi focused their efforts on commanding the ship itself so Wilder could do his job as Fleet Captain. "Commander, move this ship behind the first defensive line. From there, we will provide support to the attacking forces," the Captain ordered. "Yes, Sir," Ortiz acknowledged and turned towards Bobby to relay the orders.

Lam began to lean forward in her chair, as she focused her hearing on something that was coming through her headset. She turned around to announce her findings to the bridge. "Commander! There's a faint fold wave resonating through the fleet!" Commander Choi approached Lam's station. "What's the source?" "It's coming from Aimo, Ma'am!" Captain Wilder stood up from his chair in surprise. "It can't be... Is it... Ranka and Sheryl?" "It appears so, Sir! The wave spectrum analysis output matches their pattern."

Captain Wilder sighed in relief and sat back down in his chair with a smile. "Is there any effect on the attacking Vajra forces?" Monica took a moment to analyze the bug movements before reporting her findings. "No, the attack has not let up one bit," she dejectedly said. Captain Wilder adjusted his hat and continued to smile. "That's okay. It's amazing that their song is reaching this far. Perhaps it doesn't affect the Vajra when they're too far away, but that doesn't mean that it can't help us. Open up a channel to the fleet for me, please."

Lam nodded at Wilder to indicate that he had open air to speak. "To all ships, do not let the terrors of battle sway your resolve! Despite the fleet's losses, we continue to fight for our survival and for the survival of our colony! As unbelievable as it sounds, the songs of Ranka Mei Lee and Sheryl Nome are reaching us at this very moment and at this very point in space!" The RVF pilots in the fleet were also privy to this before Wilder's announcement. Luca's face filled with surprise as he heard the confirmation from the Fleet Captain. Even Cal shut his eyes and smiled while he listened to their song through the fold wave modulator on his RVF. Ozma perked up upon hearing that his darling sister was causing an effect on their forces, despite the massive distance between herself and the fleet. "Ranka?"

Captain Wilder continued with his motivational announcement, "Even though their song does not seem to affect the Galaxy-controlled Vajra swarm, we must allow it to become the harbinger of our victory! They sing for _us_! Let us use this as a means to increase our strength and resolve; enough to break the back of the assault being waged against us! Fight on, and fight hard! Bring us victory, so that we can ensure peace for our colony!" He turned back to Lam and slashed at his throat with his hand to instruct her to cut the channel off. Immediately, the exhausted and war-weary atmosphere of the Quarter was transformed to one filled with hope and resolve.

...

An unknown distance away from the fleet, a single fighter-sized defold reaction formed. Klan's red Queadluun emerged from the portal just as it snapped shut behind her. The fold booster's incandescent glow began to fade, beginning its cooldown and recharge procedure. The Queadluun spun around a couple of times in each direction, looking for the fleet. Inside of the cockpit, Klan's eyes scanned over her display monitor in front of her face, looking for signs of the fleet. Unfortunately, there was nothing around her, but the sub-planetary bodies of the asteroid belt.

"_Dammit! I must have miscalculated!_" she thought to herself with a frustrated look on her face. Several seconds passed before her sensors picked up multiple high-energy sources far off in the distance. She reacted by turning the Queadluun in the direction of the blips on her radar, only to see the massive battle raging on in the distance. At that range, it was impossible to visually identify the combatants, but it was easy to assume that one of the factions was the Frontier fleet that she so desperately sought to rejoin and protect. "Holy shit!" she said as her heart sunk into her stomach. She realized that the fleet was, in fact, in extreme danger of being wiped out.

"_They're so far away, but the fold booster will not be ready to use again for quite awhile..._" Without another moment's hesitation, the Queadluun jettisoned its fold booster and opened up its engines to full throttle. There was quite a distance to cover with conventional engines, but Klan had no choice but to take that route. "_Oh, God... Hang in there, guys. I'll be there to protect you all very soon!_" she thought to herself. A quick look above her monitor towards the picture and hat and she remembered what was really important to her. "_Dammit, Cal... you'd better still be alive when I get there!_" she said as she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. The Queadluun relentlessly charged through the asteroid field, desperately trying to make it through the vast expanse that divided Klan and the Frontier fleet.

...

The newly-emboldened members of the fleet continued their furious fight against the unyielding assault from the Galaxy forces. Empowered by the songs of Ranka and Sheryl, the brave soldiers began to turn the tide of the battle in their favor. They were certainly wearing down the numbers of hostile targets at a geometrically-increasing rate. The Macross Quarter steadily moved into its new position in the fleet to provide supporting fire to the front lines and hasten the process. Pixie Team patiently defended the ship, according to their orders. Ozma had decided at the last moment to place Pixie Team into that position, seeing as how they were short one pilot. This decision, of course, was made before he learned of Alto's loss of two of his pilots due to the kamikaze carrier attack on part of the fleet.

From the bridge, the effectiveness of Pixie Team was fairly evident. Even though the anti-aircraft fire from the Cheyenne Destroids and the fixed emplacements drove off some of the attacking Vajra drones, it was not enough to get rid of them all. Every once in awhile, Pixie Team would leave their positions from in front of the ship to engage pesky drones that had managed to weave their way through the AA fire, destroy them, then return to their previous positions. Cal and Nene would team up, while Will remained perched on the ship's hull to provide long-range fire support.

Jen felt proud that she was being personally protected by Cal and his teammates, but she was quick to assuage any latent feelings for him. She hastily convinced herself that he was just doing his job, not necessarily protecting her from harm. However, after returning from one of his brief skirmishes, he flew his RVF close to the bridge, transformed to battroid mode, and turned around to reverse thrust to match the Quarter's speed. A quick glance into the bridge from the battroid's head was aimed directly at her. She was a bit shocked that he really was thinking about her in a time like this. A bit of a blush was enough to tell a whole story to Bobby, who was still standing at his station next to her. She turned to Bobby just as he looked at her reaction. A brief smile and slight laugh was all he had to say to her before he turned his gaze forward again. Even though they were just friends, Cal made it known that he still cared about Jen's well-being.

Suddenly, Monica's radar station began to warn her of more incoming ships. "Captain! There are more defold reactions forming to port and starboard! Range is 500 kilometers on both sides!" Captain Wilder stood up from his chair again. "Friend or foe?" he demanded. "Unknown!" Monica glared at her station's projection while she waited for an IFF return. From the defold reactions outside of the extremities of the fleet, a mixture of more Galaxy and Vajra forces began to emerge. Each side yielded a single Altair-class carrier, a few Deneb-class and Vajra Knight-class cruisers, and many escort fighters.

Captain Wilder learned of their identity and slowly sat back down in his seat. "_Goddammit! This fight will not end!_" he thought to himself as he began to move his head towards his hand in a gesture of frustration. He quickly reminded himself that now was not a time to show his crew any doubt and worry. After reconstructing his demeanor, he continued working from his console to reposition the fleet in response to the enemy reinforcements. In reaction to his orders, groups of Frontier cruisers and carriers moved into position to rebuff the new attacking forces. More barrages of beam cannon fire began to cut through both fleets, further incurring massive casualties. Once again, the fleet was fighting with its back against the wall. Perhaps even Sheryl's and Ranka's songs may not be enough to turn the tide this time.


	31. Better Late Than Never

A/N: Yay! Finally a new chapter, huh? I just finished writing Chapter 35 this afternoon, so naturally, I got right to work prepping this chapter to post here on .

Apologies to those of you who patiently wait for each new chapter to post. I've been very busy getting ready to go back to school, finding a job, and taking care of other personal crap. I'm glad that I finally decided to go back to school, considering the difficulty I am having in finding a decent full-time job. I figure since the economy sucks so bad right now, I might as well go to school and earn a degree in something. Once I'm done, I hope that the economy will be booming and I'll be able to get a job right out of graduation. I finally got hired to work part-time as a delivery driver for Domino's, so I am successful in getting, what I think, is the ideal job for a college student.

I've also been playing Alien Swarm quite a bit, but I will probably stop playing that after awhile. You should check it out! It's available for FREE on Steam, and it's pretty fun!

So, in a nutshell, that means that I will have a little less free time to work on my fic. I will continue to chip away at it as best I can, but please excuse me if I end up taking a few extra days between posting chapters. I would like to invite you all to favorite me as an author or this story. has a pretty bitchin system that will e-mail you when I, or any of your other favorites, post a new chapter. Alright, enough ado about nothing, enjoy! -(07/31/10)

* * *

The newly-emerged carriers began to launch their complement of fighters to engage the clustering Frontier capital ships and their escorting VFs. Thanks to both Captain Wilder's diligent planning and the quick, zealous reactions by the fleet's ships, each battlegroup was set up to defend the fleet from all three fronts. Zentraedi gunboats moved into position to deliver the initial blows to the two new enemy battlegroups before they could inflict enough damage to cripple the defensive capabilities of the fleet.

The Vajra carriers were targeted first and quickly eradicated, further reducing the Galaxy fleet's long range energy-based attacks that had been decimating the Frontier fleet from the beginning of the battle. Unfortunately, it was time to unleash the threat of tactical engagement through the power of their complement of VF-27s, and the arsenal of heavy particle cannons they carried. With firepower on par with the Vajra mecha-drones, each 27 had the capability of destroying whole cruisers with one well-placed shot from their particle cannons.

Luca's sensors began to alert him of the new incoming fighters. "Oh, God... here come the 27s! ...a lot of them!" "Let them come!" Alto said as he began to posture his VF to engage the fighters that even he had difficulty defeating in battles past. Ozma scoffed at his pilot's overconfidence, but even his own blood was boiling at the prospect of the fierce upcoming fight. "Okay, pilots! Remember everything I have taught you up until now. Your recent training has been in preparation for such an encounter... We'll show those Galaxy bastards that not even cybernetic enhancements can stand up to the very best skill and training of a pilot whose mind is free to make his or her own choices!" Ozma said as he pushed his throttle stick forward all of the way, "All units, Submarine Street!"

Ozma's habit of naming his squadron's fighter formations after Fire Bomber songs still has not gotten old. "Roger that!" they all responded and followed their leader into the heart of the formation of 27s. Before they reached the group of incoming fighters, a burst of energy in the form of a triple-helix passed nearby again on its way to its intended target. The Macross Quarter continued to fire its main cannon at every possible interval to further weaken the attacking armada. A handful of the 27s were caught in the brunt of the blast, destroyed immediately by the intense energy being carried by the blast. Further behind the Galaxy fleet's defensive line, a Deneb-class cruiser fell to the Quarter's long-range attack. The gravity wave rippled through both formations of VFs, disorienting most of the pilots, but giving the others a chance to score a couple of easy kills.

Ozma's position allowed him to remain generally unaffected by the Quarter's Macross Cannon's secondary effects. He licked his lips as he swooped in to place several rounds of projectile fire into each 27 he could come across. The pilots of those 27s may have been cyborgs, but even their cybernetic implants could not make them immune to the effects of the Quarter's main gun. The timing couldn't have been more perfect to enable Ozma and his pilots to fight the terrifying squadron of 27s on more even terms. The pilots then paired up to take on each remaining 27, using their skills and teamwork to overwhelm their enemies.

While Ozma and Alto led the charge against the incurring flight of VF-27s at the front line, the other two battlegroups did their best to stand up against the crushing power of the newly-emerged Galaxy groups and their VF-27 squadrons. On one side of the fleet, Frontier's Diamond Force used its superior teamwork to fend off the attacking VF-27s and their accompanying Ghost V-9 drones. This incarnation of the elite fighter group lived up to the name that was made famous in the Macross 7 fleet many years ago. Their ferocity had been seen before while defending the Frontier fleet from Vajra attacks and this battle was no exception.

"D-1 to D-2, I need your help in disposing of this bastard!" The leader of Diamond Force was engaged in a melee struggle with one of Galaxy's VF-27s and didn't want to take any chances on letting it get a lucky shot off. "Roger that!" his radio crackled. It only took but a few seconds before the 27 was cut in half by a shot from the VF-171EX's particle cannon. Having flown together for quite some time, these pilots could almost read each other's minds. Such synergy can only be accomplished by the right pilots and a lot of experience flying side-by-side with each other.

"D-3 and D-4, what's your status?" the leader inquired. "We're just now delivering the packages!" they responded. Two 171EXs flew through the Galaxy AA fire towards their targets. Finding a soft spot in the defenses of the carrier and one of the cruisers, their MDE bombs detached from under their wings and sped off towards their final destinations. "Bombs away! Hehe... I've always wanted to say that!" one of the pilots said as he pulled up and away from the carrier towards which he had been speeding. The AA guns on the carrier began to desperately fire at the two incoming bombs, but they eventually reached the extremities of their firing angles, unsuccessful in shooting them down before they impacted on the ship's hull.

Both pilots watched in their mirrors as the two capital ships instantly became engulfed by the dimensional rifts. The carrier began to implode upon itself, like an empty soda can being crushed by an immeasurable force. Despite being proud of their successful bombing strike, the two pilots began to feel a bit of remorse from having to use such terrible weapons against other human beings from a fellow colonization fleet. "It's a damn shame that we are forced to take such drastic measures just to protect ourselves from people whom we should be embracing as our brothers," one of the pilots remarked. "Well, they don't seem to hold us in the same regard, since they feel it necessary to sacrifice even their own people to destroy us. If you ask me, that's a sign of the evil in their hearts," another pilot replied.

Diamond Force's leader had to get his pilots refocused on the battle before they lost their concentration, "Whatever it is that drives them, we can find out **after** we are done fighting here. Get your heads back in the game, guys. This battle isn't done yet!" They began to engage another small group of 27s and V-9s just as the Zentraedi gunboat in their battlegroup opened fire on the last Galaxy capital ship remaining in the vicinity. A direct hit vaporized the cruiser, leaving only a few fighters to have to mop up.

On the Quarter, the news was good on one front and dire on the other. "Captain, the defense line on the port side of the fleet is collapsing! A small group of 27s and V-9s are heading right towards us!" Monica reported. In the distance, Frontier's cruisers were being destroyed systematically, allowing the Galaxy battlegroup to begin moving into the fleet's inner defenses. Since the other side had eradicated their opposing Galaxy battlegroup, Captain Wilder ordered them to reposition to intercept the incoming capital ships. Commander Ortiz had to do something about the impending threat of the incoming fighters, though.

"Pixie Team, you need to hold off the incoming fighters until we can reinforce our defenses. It will be some time before the fleet can reposition its capital ships, so you're going to just have to hold out for awhile!" he ordered. Each one of the three members of Pixie Team became both eager and hesitant at the same time. They loved the fact that they were going to really have to get their hands dirty to defend the Quarter, but upon realizing that it was going to be against 27s and V-9s, a slight sense of fear temporarily overcame them.

"Roger that, Commander!" Nene responded. She was the first to respond by boosting away from the ship to intercept the incoming fighters. Cal noticed her lack of apprehension and steeled his determination to do his job, no matter how dire the odds of his survival might be. Pixie Team was all that stood between the Quarter and the incoming battlegroup, until the other capital ships could move in to defend. "Come on, Will!" Cal said as he boosted off to join Nene in formation. Will's battroid stood up and pushed off of the Quarter's hull before switching to fighter form.

Everyone on the bridge knew that the odds were stacked against them, but they began to hope for the best. After all, Pixie Team's failure meant that they would be in immediate danger of annihilation. "They saved the best for last, guys! The fleet is watching us, so we can't let them down!" Nene told her team in an effort to rebuild their confidence. Cal decided that he had to say something while he still had a chance, "I'm not going to go into any stupid speeches about how it's been an honor to serve with you guys, because that kind of pessimism will only get us killed. I will say, however, that each one of us has worked hard to get to this point. I don't plan on throwing that hard work away just yet." "Hear, hear. I'll see you guys on the hangar deck after this is all done," Will chimed in. With a deep sigh, each pilot accepted their fate, no matter what it would turn out to be.

The incoming Galaxy fighter group began to draw closer to their effective weapons range. Several of the Quarter's Cheyenne Destroids had unseated themselves from their fixed emplacements and fortified themselves at various places on the Quarter's flight deck to provide additional fire support. Their AA fire was timed just right to coincide with Pixie Team's initial munitions strike. Just as their salvo of missiles left their birds, the immediate space around them filled with the Destroids' projectile fire.

After several seconds of anticipation, the missiles began to hit their targets, supported by the AA fire from the Quarter. The strategy paid off with dividends as several Ghost and 27 fighters were hit and shot down. "Got em!" Will exclaimed. "Don't celebrate just yet..." Cal said in response. Pixie Team opened fire with their primary weapons and tried to hit a couple more targets before each wing passed each other. Will hit another Ghost, but no other Galaxy fighters were shot down before both groups passed each other at extremely high speeds. As was expected, none of the attacking craft engaged the pilots of Pixie Team, instead opting to accomplish their mission... destroy the fleet's flagship. Cal noticed the markings on the side of the lead ship as it passed by his RVF. "_Oh shit, that's a 27-gamma! I want him!_" he thought to himself.

"Oh, no you don't!" Nene said as she turned around to chase the lead 27. "Will, find a spot to pick these guys off. I'm going to take the leader. Cal, work your magic with these Ghosts, will ya?" Will acknowledged, but Cal didn't have a good feeling about this. "Roger that, but are you sure you can handle that guy? It's a 27-gamma, which probably means he's a squadron leader. He'll definitely be a handful for you to fight," he said. "Don't worry about me. Remember that we have to work as a team, so don't be getting all greedy on me, Cal!" Nene replied. Cal laughed at the fact that Nene could almost read his mind and his desire to take down the Galaxy ace pilot. "Acknowledged..." he said as he finished laughing.

On the bridge, Monica turned back towards Commander Ortiz to relay the news, "There are still several incoming fighters! They're just too many for Pixie Team to handle!" Ortiz clicked his tongue in disappointment. "I knew I shouldn't have entrusted them to get the job done..." he mumbled. Jen heard him and immediately whipped around to stare him down. She wasn't about to let Commander Ortiz talk that way about Cal and his team.

He saw her giving him a look of death and snapped his demeanor back to one with confidence. "Um... I guess I underestimated the size of the attacking force," he said. Somewhat satisfied, Jen slowly turned back to her console and continued directing the Destroid traffic as they moved around the immediate space near the Quarter. Ortiz gave his new orders to the bridge crew. "We're going to need to buy them some time. Transform the ship into Storm Attack mode and begin retreating towards the rest of the fleet to take a defensive position," he said as he looked to Captain Wilder for approval. A simple nod was all he needed to proceed.

Mena began to announce the ship's impending transformation and crews worked quickly to secure their immediate surroundings. Within seconds, her console indicated the ship's readiness. "All sectors are secure! We're ready for transformation!" she announced. Commander Ortiz nodded in response and turned towards the helmsman. "Bobby?" he said with another nod. Bobby turned forward and aggressively took his controls. "Here we go!" he exclaimed.

Nene furiously pursued the 27-gamma, but its speed was too much for her to be able to catch up. She opened fire with everything she could. Projectile fire, missiles, her anti-ship particle cannon; nothing could hit its target as the 27-gamma effortlessly avoided her fire. Fortunately, it slowed him down a little bit each time he was forced to adjust his angle of attack. Once he reached a more effective range, he began to open fire with his heavy beam cannon. Every couple of seconds, a lethal dose of energy discharged from his opened gunpod.

While the 27's salvo sped towards its target, the Quarter could be seen changing its configuration in the distance. Using its powerful engines to accelerate away from the attacking fighters, and at the same time, moving out of the way of the incoming anti-ship munitions fire. A couple of the shots impacted upon the surface of the flight deck, causing the Destroids to scatter from their positions. The solid construction of the flight deck allowed it to absorb the high-energy blasts, but not before sending some debris flying out of the smoke clouds from the explosions. The particles harmlessly bounced off of the nearby Destroids, but it seemed to stoke their determination to shoot down the attacker. Each one of them turned their attention to the incoming 27-gamma, filling the space in front of him with a concentration of AA fire.

The 27-gamma quickly realized that his attack run had to be cut short, or he'd be shot down by AA fire. He pulled out of his attack vector and zoomed away to reposition for another run. However, Nene used this opportunity to close in to a more lethal range and opened fire upon him once more. This time, she was more than just a pesky mosquito to him and he was forced to engage her in an one-on-one dogfight. Suddenly, Nene's radio crackled a mysterious voice, "A Zentraedi pilot, huh? Show me what you can do!" The pilot of the 27-gamma broke his radio silence to hurl some taunts at Nene in an effort to enrage her. After the initial surprise of hearing his voice over the comm line, she confidently answered, "I'll be sure to keep your gunpod as a souvenir after this is over..." A scoff was all she heard in response.

"Sir! The Macross Cannon is done recharging. It's ready to fire again!" Mena reported. Commander Ortiz turned back to Bobby once more. "Bobby, hit the lead cruiser in that attacking group!" he ordered. "You got it!" Bobby responded. While still backing away, the Quarter used its arms to draw its weapon and aim it at the Deneb-class cruiser that just happened to be in front of the rest of the ships in its battlegroup. "Pixie Team, we're about to fire the Macross Cannon! Don't get hit!" Jen announced. Bobby immediately fired, sending the pilots of Pixie Team scattering out of the line of fire. The shot hit its mark and summarily ripped the cruiser in half before it exploded.

Fighting through the effects of the rapidly-expanding gravity wave, Cal gritted his teeth while he fought to retain control of his RVF's attitude. He continued to decimate the ranks of Ghost V-9s, using the electronic countermeasures specifically designed to deal with the unmanned fighters. Will finally found a nice perch upon an asteroid to set up camp and provide long-range fire support to his teammates. His first targets, though, were the remaining VF-27s that were still trying to inflict damage upon the agile Quarter.

Several of the fighters were shot down by the AA fire coming from the Destroids and fixed turret emplacements, but the Quarter's defenses were also taking collateral damage from the exchange of fire. One of the 27s strafed the flight deck of the Quarter, targeting as many Destroids as it could. The first two Destroids were hit and destroyed, but the rest of them reacted quick enough to dodge the incoming fire. Upon re-posturing, they continued to fire on the intruding fighter while it zoomed away to start another strafing run. Before it could get far, though, it was hit by the AA fire from the Destroid group and veered out of control and away from the ship before exploding.

"Pixie Team, we're getting pounded! You need to remove the threat from our aerospace immediately!" Commander Ortiz barked over the comm lines. As another 27 moved into position to strafe the deck, a hot blue blur punched its way through the VF, snapping its structure in half before it exploded. "Don't worry, Quarter, I'll have these guys off your back in a few more seconds!" Will responded. He found the other 27 circling around to begin its next strafing run and zeroed in before pulling the trigger again. His first shot sailed slightly wide, but the next one met its target. The immense kinetic force of the sniper round ripped its way straight through the body of the 27 and summarily destroyed the bird. A sigh of relief came out of Will as he realized that he had successfully cleared the Quarter of the immediate threat. He began to look for his beloved Nene, in the hopes that he could assist her in dealing with the 27-gamma.

A small salvo of missiles ejected from the sides of Nene's Queadluun and sped forward to deliver their warheads to the 27-gamma. "You're going to have to do better than that, I'm sorry to say..." he said to Nene as he changed to battroid form and began to shoot each missile down. However, it wasn't quite her plan to actually _hit_ him with her missiles. It was a distraction to allow her to move in to melee range and engage him in hand-to-hand combat. Following a bone-jarring collision, both fighters began to grapple each other in the hopes that they could overpower the other and deliver a fatal blow. "_Come on, Will... I'm counting on you!_" Nene thought to herself. She had some confidence that her thoughts could be heard by the one she calls her own; a connection that seems to only be shared by people who are very close to each other.

"Ah... not a bad strategy. The question is, though, is it going to pay off?" the 27-gamma pilot casually asked. "We'll see in a moment, won't we?" Nene smirked. Off in the distance, Will locked onto his target and pulled the trigger. As if he had anticipated their strategy, the 27's pilot reacted to the incoming sniper fire by thrusting backwards. The maneuver allowed him to pull Nene's Queadluun into the line of fire just as the sniper round barreled into their position. Time seemed to slow down when Will saw that his shot was about to hit his significant other, instead of the cocky 27 pilot. "Oh shit! Nene!" he gasped.

The sniper round lanced the backside of the Queadluun, nearly splitting the structure of the power armor in half. The engines and exhaust ports shattered from the glancing blow of the sniper round, sending a cloud of debris spraying away in the direction of the sniper round. "Hmph..." the 27 pilot scoffed as he let go of Nene's Queadluun, floated backwards a bit, and unloaded a handful of missiles from the rear of his battroid. Without even waiting to see if they hit their targets, he flipped his battroid over and transformed to fighter mode to deal with the other menace.

The missiles impacted onto Nene's Queadluun and Pixie Team's channel carried her screams over the airwaves; a blood-chilling sound for Will and Cal to hear. "Nene, Nooo!" Will yelled as he watched her Queadluun disappear behind several explosions. Cal turned his attention away from the Ghosts he was still engaged with to see the commotion going on off in the distance. He turned forward again and gritted his teeth in determination to finish his job and move to try and save his teammates.

Will struggled to put aside his concern for Nene's well-being, resisting the urge to leave his sniping position and expose himself to the 27's pilot. "Goddamn you!" he exclaimed over the comm line. The 27 was heading directly towards the asteroid upon which he was perched. "Don't think that I didn't know about you all this time. You weaklings think that you can sneak around undetected and engage me from the shadows?" He said. Will ignored his taunts and began to open fire on the incoming 27, hoping that his high-speed rounds would hit their mark. Showing his skill as a pilot, the 27 made himself into a very hard-to-hit target, using various maneuvers to avoid Will's sniper fire.

The 27 dipped below the edge of the asteroid, leaving Will's line of sight for just a moment, before he reappeared directly in front of Will. His position was just out of the line of fire of Will's sniper rifle, and he drew his gunpod to place the fatal rounds into the sniper battroid. To his surprise, the 27 pilot was met with a salvo of missiles fired from Will's battroid while it was in its prone position. To avoid them, he had to quickly back away, opening fire on Will while the missiles sailed closer to him. Will reacted to the incoming fire by rolling his battroid to his right and firing with his sniper rifle again several times while on the roll. The combination of his missiles and sniper rounds nearly hit the 27, who was very surprised by the counter-attack.

"Ah! Very good! You are much better than I thought! I'm beginning to enjoy fighting with you guys. It will just make my victory even more glorious!" the 27 pilot said to Will. The 27 transformed to fighter form and left a cloud of chaff in his wake, attracting the missiles away from his bird. "You haven't seen anything yet, asshole!" Will exclaimed as he took off from his perch to chase the 27 down. His burning hatred began to overcome his sense of logic and he sought to engage the enemy pilot in open space. It was a decision that he would come to regret, as this was not Will's strongest area of combat.

"So foolish..." the 27 pilot taunted. He turned around to charge directly at Will and opened fire with his gunpod. Will continued to fire his sniper rifle, while skillfully weaving his battroid through the incoming fire. Both fighters desperately tried to hit their targets, but once they moved very close to each other, their final shots left their gunpods before they passed each other in open space. "Gotcha!" the 27 pilot said. Will turned his battroid around to watch the 27 fly away from him, "What are you talking about? I didn't take any-" His sentence was interrupted by several small explosions coming from his VF. His engines sputtered to remain running and alarms began to sound in the cockpit, alerting Will of the crippling damage done to its internal systems.

Will's battroid listed out of control towards the Quarter's position way off in the distance, but he was too far out of range to depend on the AA fire to protect him from the 27's finishing blow. "I'm sorry, Nene. This is all my fault..." Will mumbled to himself. A faint voice returned his apology, "It's okay, hon. He was too much for us, but we certainly did give him a run for his money, huh?" "Nene! I thought you were gone...!" Will replied. Nene's Queadluun was very badly damaged and derelict, but she seemed to have survived the impact of the 27's assault.

Nene chuckled, "No, but I'm not going to last much longer out here like this. I can feel my body beginning to lose its warmth." Will began to fire his VFs verniers in an attempt to float to Nene's damaged Queadluun. "Hang in there, Nene. I know that we'll get out of this somehow..." he replied. After a few seconds, Will's VF neared Nene's Queadluun and he reached out with his battroid's arm to grab a hold of her power armor. Suddenly, the 27 reappeared right behind Will and drew his gunpod to finish him off. "Aww... how touching! I'm sorry, but I just can't allow you two to live any longer. You know... it's my job and all to eradicate all of you without mercy. I'll just do you the favor of sending you both into the afterlife together!" he laughed as the gunpod charged up to release the finishing blow.

Out of the corner of the 27 pilot's vision, he saw sudden movement and reacted by turning his aim towards the incoming threat. The gunpod discharged, but Cal's RVF quickly rolled to avoid the blast and he tackled the 27 away from Will's and Nene's disabled fighters. "You talk too much!" Cal yelled. His battroid cocked back its fist and he applied the pin-point barrier to it, causing a glow to emanate from the hand. An aggressive thrust towards the 27 and Cal's melee strike began to head towards its target with haste.

A quick, controlled vernier thrust and the 27 dodged to the side to avoid Cal's melee strike. The 27 wrapped its left arm around Cal's battroid's arm, giving him a firm grip on the RVF. "You guys are like cockroaches. Once you thought you've killed them all, here comes another one! I don't know how you managed to avoid my sensors, but I will soon take care of you as well," the pilot taunted once more. He raised his battroid's right arm and ejected the combat knife hidden under its hull. The blade glowed with the energy of the pin-point barrier while he began to swing it directly at Cal's RVF.

Cal deflected the incoming strike with the shield on his battroid's left arm, using his own pin-point barrier to reinforce its heavy armor. Knocking the knife out of the 27's hand, Cal used the same maneuver to wrap his own left arm around the 27's right arm. The two VFs had a firm hold onto each other and they both seemed to stare directly at each other, like two pit fighters locked in battle. "Hmph... You seem to have some skill as well. You guys are really making this the greatest day of my life," the 27 pilot said. "Well, I wouldn't call yours a 'life'," Cal remarked, "I feel sorry for you Galaxy soldiers, not having the ability to think for yourselves. If I had a choice between having my mind enslaved and death, I choose death. Life was not meant to be restrained. Free will is what gives life its variety and its ability to innovate and flourish."

The 27's pilot thought about Cal's statement for a moment, but he was convinced of the superiority of his way of living. "We've all attained a higher level of consciousness by joining the Galaxy hive mind. In time, you will all submit to our way of life and join us; willingly or not," he said. Suddenly, the laser cannon on the 27's head pivoted forward to open fire on Cal's RVF. Cal had to react fast, or he'd be pelted with laser fire. He flipped his throttle stick 45 degrees to switch his battroid to GERWALK form and pushed the throttle all the way forward.

Still clinging to each other, both VFs spun in a circle very rapidly, with the 27's laser fire emitting from them in a spiral. Eventually, both pilots let go of each other and Cal switched to battroid form. Both VFs faced each other as they careened away; each one ejecting a salvo of missiles at the other. The missiles all collided with each other, filling the space between them with a cloud of explosions. Unable to detect Cal's RVF with his sensors, the 27 pilot began to wildly spray his gunpod fire into the cloud, hoping to hit something. Unknown to him, Cal had already begun his next attack and had flown around the pyrotechnic cloud, out of the 27's immediate sight.

The 27 spun around a couple of times with its gun drawn, while it tried to visually locate the RVF's position. Suddenly, it was engulfed from above with a spray from Cal's gunpod fire. The 27's gunpod was hit and knocked out of its hands before it exploded. Using its shield to deflect the rest of the incoming fire, it seemed to come out of the strafe maneuver otherwise unharmed. However, Cal was not quite done inflicting punishment on the ace pilot. He switched his fighter to battroid form and thrust both of its legs onto the body of the 27, sending debris flying away.

Cal could hear the pilot groaning from the impact over the comm lines, but he _still_ was not done. Pushing off of the 27 with his battroid's legs, he left a little "gift" for his opponent in his wake. The 27's pilot watched Cal push away from his own VF, but his vision was immediately assaulted by the white-hot magnesium flare from Cal's flashbang countermeasure. "Argh! You son of a-" the pilot groaned in pain. His headset was being pounded by the EMP effect of the flashbang, as well.

Anticipating Cal's next move, the 27's pilot switched his VF into fighter form and zoomed away, leaving a cloud of chaff behind. Indeed, Cal had unleashed a salvo of missiles to finish off his opponent, but they were immediately attracted to and detonated by the chaff. Cal switched to fighter form to pursue his opponent and try to finish him off before he regained his senses again. "Ugh... I don't know how you're doing it, but you've definitely got some tricks up your sleeve. Perhaps I slightly underestimated your combat ability, but I will soon show you the superiority of my own skills," the pilot struggled to say.

"It's called 'innovation', jackass. Being able to think outside of the box is something that you will probably never be able to do as long as you remain cybernetically connected to the minds of others," Cal replied. He closely followed the 27, firing his gunpod at the elusive bird. As the 27 pilot began to regain his sight and hearing, he responded back to Cal's statement. "Since you're going to preach about your actual inferiority, I will show you what cybernetic enhancements are capable of doing," he said as he began to perform high-speed maneuvers in an attempt to lose his opponent. Cal accepted his dare and closed in to pursue at high speeds.

In the distance, the two battlegroups of capital ships began to enter each other's firing range. The space between them was immediately filled with projectile fire, attempting to destroy each other through attrition. The group's remaining Zentraedi gunboat fired its main cannon at one of Galaxy's cruisers, instantly destroying it and a few of the fighters that happened to be in the way. Nene and Will floated through space together and watched the fight raging on far from their position.

"Will?" Nene asked, looking for a response from her one-and-only. "I'm right here, Nene. Just stay with me... I'll get you home soon. Doesn't a bed sound nice right about now?" he asked. Will had used his battroid to grab onto Nene's Queadluun. His verniers were occasionally firing to adjust their direction while they slowly drifted back to the Quarter's position. "We're almost to the Quarter, so hang on just a bit longer." "Will... did you forget that I'm not micloned? You're going to need to get me to a Zentraedi ship if you're going to save me!" Nene replied. "Shit! You're right..." Will gritted his teeth and looked up towards the Frontier's battlegroup that was beginning to pass them by. He didn't want to tell Nene that the trip would be longer to get to one of the Zentraedi ships, but something had to happen soon to get her some medical attention.

Fortunately for them, a squadron of Nousjadeul-Gers flew nearby and hailed the two crippled fighters. "Wow! A Queadluun and a VF-25 together? Do you guys need some help?" Will quickly replied to their inquiry, "Yes! She needs medical attention now! I can't take her back to my ship, so I'm trying to get her to one of yours." A small subset of the Zentraedi squadron detached itself from their formation to retrieve them. "Roger that! We'll come and give you guys a push..."

Somewhere closer to the raging battle, two vapor trails weaved in and out of the asteroids at extremely high speeds. "Come on, you can do it!" the pilot of the 27-gamma taunted. Cal was gritting his teeth at his apparent inability to pursue his opponent. "I told you that you were inferior!" the radio taunted again. "Alright, that's it... you want to take it to another level? Let's do this now!" Cal said as he punched a couple of buttons on his console. He stopped his VF's forward progress just as several items detached from the ship's hard points.

Cal had still not yet used his MDE bombs, and their bulk was continuing to weigh him down. Both bombs snapped away from their moorings and gently floated away. From his back, the radome detached itself and drifted off. Inside of the cockpit, Cal let go of his controls and pounded his fists together in front of his chest. A couple of quick movements and he had popped all of the joints in his fingers and then replaced his hands back onto the control sticks. "Alright, I'm ready. Let's go!" he said as he boosted off towards the waiting VF-27.

Immediately, Cal could feel the difference in performance from his RVF, now that it was much lighter than before. He was now able to match the 27's movements on an even level while a wicked grin crept across his face. It had been quite some time since his piloting skills were challenged like this and he was satisfied that he was able to fly so well against the fearsome 27-gamma, which was piloted by an ace. The occasional spray of gunpod fire was met with yet another high-speed maneuver; to which Cal had to react quickly, or he'd lose his target.

Each turn thrust Cal's body in the opposite direction with immense force. The EX-gear and Inertia Store Converter system had met their limits and were allowing the intense g-forces to finally reach the pilot. Cal would groan as his body fought with the g-forces. The blood in his body was being thrown in different directions, along with his lungs having difficulty drawing in air. Cal could only hear laughing in his radio; probably in response to his own labored breathing and groaning.

"See? You might be a good pilot, but your body is too weak to handle this level of combat!" the 27's pilot chattered. "Shut up! I'm doing just fine!" Cal grunted. However, with a couple more high-speed turns, Cal's RVF lost control and began to careen off into the distance, spinning on all axes. Inside of his cockpit, several alarms were going off to warn the pilot, but Cal's eyes were closed and he was teetering on the brink of unconsciousness. As if it was second-nature to him, his hands continued to operate the control sticks in an effort to stop the spinning and regain full consciousness.

The computer responded by changing the VF to battroid form and assisted him by firing several of the verniers multiple times per second. It eventually returned its attitude control back to human levels. Unfortunately, Cal remained motionless in his seat; fighting to regain control of his own body. He could only hear the 27's pilot laughing uncontrollably at him. "Now you know the amazing capabilities of having a cyborg body. It's too bad you won't live to ever experience it!" he said. The 27 approached Cal's derelict RVF with its right hand glowing from the pin-point barrier being applied to it.

With a forward thrust of his arm, the battroid's burning hand charged directly at Cal's battroid's chest, near where the cockpit was located. Something inside of Cal caused his consciousness to snap back into action and he opened his eyes just in time to react to the incoming death blow. The battroid whipped both of its arms upward and grabbed the 27's arm to stop its attack. Cal strained with his controls, trying desperately to move the glowing hand away from his VF. He could hear the actuators and the physical structure of his RVF groaning under the pressure that was being applied by his attacker.

Slowly, the 27's hand moved closer and closer to the cockpit of the RVF. Once it got close to the body, the pin-point barrier on the hand began to chew away small pieces of the RVFs armor; right at the point nearest to the location of the cockpit. "Ha ha ha! You're something, you know that? Every time I think I have you, you do something to get out of it. Unfortunately, nothing is going to save you this time!" the 27 pilot announced.

Just when Cal began to accept that the 27's pilot was right, a mechanical glowing hand punched right through the chest of the 27. Debris flew forward and began to pelt Cal's RVF while the glow faded from the 27's hand. "Now's the chance to say your famous last words," the radio crackled. The mysterious mechanical hand then turned and gripped one side of the hole it had created and strained to pull the torso of the VF in one direction, while a second hand pulled the lower half in the other direction. Within microseconds, the VF-27 cracked in half and the lower and upper torso sailed left and right in opposite directions. "You've got to be kidding me...!" the 27's pilot screamed.

Where the 27 once was, a red Queadluun now floated. "Not bad for your last words, but I only give it a six out of ten..." the voice responded. The pod hatches opened on each shoulder of the Queadluun and a pair of missiles sailed to each side; impacting on the remains of the 27 and pulverizing them into tiny pieces. Cal watched in amazement. He was certain that it was all over for him, but it seemed that the most unlikely of people had arrived in time to save his life once again. "I think that one puts me in the lead of how many times we save each other's lives, right?" the radio sounded.

Cal's heart was racing as his ears finally recognized the voice on the other end of his radio. "Holy shit! If it isn't the Half-Pint! I had no idea you were keeping count!" "Well, of **course** I was! How else am I going to be able to claim my prize when this is all over?" Klan responded. Both pilots laughed at each other; so happy to be reunited again. However, the fight wasn't done yet. The battle raged on in the distance, with both sides hoping to claim victory soon before too many losses were incurred. For the moment, though, Klan reveled in the fact that her decision to take the Rasa prototype from the Eksidos turned out to save Cal's life. It didn't matter to her the consequences that she was going to have to face for her brazen actions. It was totally worth it, no matter how bad it was going to be.


	32. Indestructible

"Monica, what's the status of the fleet?" Captain Wilder asked. "Our forces are down to around 50% strength, but it looks like we outnumber the Galaxy-Vajra fleet again. At this pace, we'll have destroyed their entire fleet in several minutes," she proudly reported. Commander Ortiz pumped his fist in celebration, "Alright! What's the next course of action? Demand a surrender?" Wilder nodded in acknowledgment. "Lam, give me an open channel on the hailing frequency." She quickly punched up some commands on her console and gave the Captain a nod.

"This is Fleet Captain Wilder calling the Macross Galaxy fleet. In the interest of preventing the deaths of many of yours and our soldiers, I hereby demand the unconditional surrender of all Galaxy-controlled ships on this battlefield. Your forces are now outnumbered and outgunned, and continuing to fight will only lead to your absolute destruction. To save the lives of all of the brave soldiers engaged in this fight, I beseech you; surrender now, or you sentence them to their deaths." The Quarter's bridge remained silent while they waited for a response.

Several moments passed with no reply. Commander Ortiz was getting a little antsy. "Captain? Do we continue to press our attack or should we wait for a reply?" Captain Wilder wanted to wait for one more moment, but it quickly passed. "Keep up the pressure. Do not give them a chance to destroy any more of this fleet!" "Yes, Sir!" Ortiz responded with a salute. He turned to continue monitoring the ship's status as the barrage raged on in front of the ship. "Lam, continue to repeat my message to the Galaxy fleet every 30 seconds," Wilder ordered. Another discharge from the Quarter's Macross Cannon followed shortly afterward and more unfortunate lives perished in its aftermath.

…

"Look at you... you're a mess!" Klan said to Cal as she used her Queadluun to grab his RVF by its shoulders and straightened out its posture. "We can't have you going into battle looking like this, can we?" The Queadluun began to stroke in a dusting motion the RVF battroid's torso where it had taken some damage from the VF-27's melee attack. Cal remained sheepishly quiet while the Queadluun collected the parts that Cal had jettisoned from his bird during his fight. "Here, you dropped these..." She aggressively attached the MDE bombs back onto the hard points under the wings, which were folded behind the battroid at a 45 degree angle away from the body. The whole scene was reminiscent of a couple getting ready for dinner at a fancy restaurant. She then handed the radome to Cal from in front of his battroid. "Don't forget your 'hat'! Ha ha ha..."

The radome's shape did look a little bit like a hat for some giant mechanical person, but in reality, it went on the back of the RVF in all three of its configurations. Cal made a bit of a goofy laugh over the comm lines, but he tried hard not to make it too loud. His battroid quickly converted to fighter form and he fired his verniers with precision, in order to "dock" with the radome. A quick clicking sound, and the RVF-25 was ready to go again.

"What is this new toy you have? It looks quite a bit different than your last Queadluun," Cal asked. Klan had been waiting for him to ask, and she almost looked forward to answering it. "Um, I can't really talk about it. What you see is what you got, but what I will say is that it's a prototype and guess who gets to fly it?" Cal had an ear to ear smile when he heard her answer. "You've got to be shitting me... You're a test pilot now _too_?" Those were pretty much the exact words that Klan was hoping he'd say. She bathed in the feeling of accomplishment; almost certain that she could sense the envy coming from Cal. "Yup!" she proudly replied, "Just don't talk about what you see, or you'll get me into more trouble than I am already in right now..." "Huh?" Cal replied. His response went generally unanswered and Klan moved on to the more important issue at hand.

"Okay, let's get back to work here. What were Pixie Team's orders for the battle?" Klan asked as her Queadluun boosted back towards the Quarter's battlegroup. "We were defending the Quarter from the attacking squadron of VF-27s and Ghost V-9s." "Man, they stuck you guys with defense? How'd you guys manage to do that?" "Commander Lee said it was because we were short a pilot... you, basically. We had chosen a new pilot just a few hours ago, but we obviously didn't have time to get him transferred." Klan knew she should have guessed that answer. "Oh yeah... Where are Nene and Will anyway?"

Cal took a moment to answer, a little upset that the last time he saw them, they were floating nearly helplessly through space. "That 27-gamma tore us up real good. He shot both of them down before I could even get there to help out. Hang on..." Cal changed his comm line before speaking again. "Will? Nene? Are you guys still okay? Where are you?" A moment passed before there was a response from Will. "Yeah, we're doing okay, I guess... I took Nene to one of the Zentraedi ships so they could tend to her wounds." Will stood in the massive hangar on the Zentraedi ship, dwarfed by his own battroid and the Zentraedi soldiers and equipment nearby. "They are stabilizing her in the hangar right now, but they said that she should be okay with a little medical attention. Glad to hear you're still with us."

Cal breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright, I will get back to work out here. Oh! Guess who I ran into out here?" "I know; I heard you guys on the radio. Hi, Klan!" Will said. "Hey. You take care of my sister, you hear? I expect you to be by her side while she's in the hospital." A brief silence followed Klan's sentence until Will finally responded. "Yeah, I got that. You take care of Cal out there. I expect you two to quit messing around and get to the heart of things after this is over." Both Cal and Klan were a bit taken aback by Will's forwardness. Before either of them could say anything, Will blurted back out again. "Ah, they're taking her to the infirmary now. I gotta go, guys. Good luck out there!"

The radio cut out and Cal and Klan were left alone once again. "What did he mean by that?" Klan asked with a slight laugh. Cal practically answered before she finished her question. "It's nothing! Let's just focus on the task at hand, okay?" She smiled as she noticed a bit of redness beginning to form on Cal's cheeks over the comm line's video feed on her monitor.

It didn't take long for his complexion to return to normal, however. A look of worry overcame his face and he deeply sighed. "What's the matter?" Cal turned his head to look out of the side of his cockpit before answering. "That 27-gamma is still bothering me. He busted us up without much effort. In the end, he was just too much to handle." Klan knew exactly how Cal felt; her past encounters with Brera Sterne ended in her defeat. "Even though I was still quite a ways away, I actually had found you right when you started your fight with him. I watched you tangle with him on an even level and you even got a few licks in on him. That flashbang was genius! It's too bad he was able to predict your next attack and get away, though. I could tell that you definitely gave his confidence a good shaking with that series of moves!"

Cal felt a little better hearing those words from the one pilot whom he respects more than any other. Klan continued with her critiquing, "Once you guys started trying to outmaneuver each other, I was having trouble catching up because you were both moving so fast!" "Yeah, but apparently, I was moving _too_ fast. The ISC and EX-gear couldn't hold back the g-forces and I eventually blacked out. That's why I lost control. It was foolish of me to fall into his little trap like that. He was probably planning on taking advantage of the fact that I don't have a cyborg body capable of handling those intense forces like that. My pride almost got me killed..."

Klan didn't like to hear him tearing himself down like that, even though his self-analysis was probably correct. "Hey, on the bright side, it looks like you've already begun to outgrow some of the capabilities of the 25! Those 27s are incredible machines and for you to be able to fly at their level, it says a lot about the pilot." Cal started to blush again at the compliments being showered upon him, despite his failure to defeat his opponent on his own. For some reason, he didn't sense his ego beginning to overcome his personality. Klan's comments were just what he needed to get his confidence back.

As they neared the Quarter's battlegroup, a brief silence fell over their cockpits. Klan heard a demure voice coming from Cal. "Klan...?" "Hmm?" Several seconds passed; he seemed to be having difficulty saying what he was thinking. "I know, Cal. I know." Sensing his discomfort, she had to help him out a bit; even if she couldn't be sure of exactly what it was he was trying to say.

Cal approached his previous defensive position just above the Quarter's flight deck and informed his mothership of the status of his team. "I'm all that's left of Pixie Team, but I found an old friend to help us out!" From inside of the bridge, a familiar red Queadluun could be seen passing by the bridge, but its configuration was quite a bit different than the Rhea that they were used to seeing. "This is Charon-1 ready to assist Pixie Team in the defense of the Quarter," Klan reported in.

Captain Wilder narrowed his eyes and responded to Klan. "Commander, I was under the impression that you were stationed on Aimo. Would you mind telling me what you're doing out here?" "I'm out here in response to the attack on your fleet. I can go into further detail in a private briefing, if that's okay with you." Wilder didn't like this one bit, but he definitely needed all of the help he could get. After all, it was his highest priority to put an end to this bloody battle as quickly as possible and with the fewest deaths possible. "Acknowledged. Carry on, then."

…

On the front lines, Ozma, Alto, and Kanaria continued to lead their teams in an attempt to break the defenses of the main Galaxy fleet. The lines of influence fluctuated back and forth for the majority of the battle, but the waning combat strength of the Galaxy fleet began to yield to the determined Frontier forces. Alto watched from his cockpit as a group of his own missiles impacted upon the hull of a cruiser and destroyed several of its defensive turrets. A quick turn from his battroid, followed by a spray of gunpod fire, and an attacking Ghost V-9 drone met its end in a fiery death.

"Ozma, it looks like these guys are ripe for the picking. Should we push forward into their ranks to devastate their fleet?" Alto asked. "We're almost ready, but I am a little concerned that we're starting to run low on ammunition. Plus, that Vajra cruiser is stubbornly blocking the way into the heart of their formation. What we need is some heavy firepower to strike the cruisers hard and quick," Ozma replied. Kanaria's voice sounded over the radio in response to Alto and Ozma. "Leave that Vajra cruiser to me. I'll have it down in a few moments!"

The VB-6 was still confidently perched upon an asteroid, repositioning itself to open fire upon the nearby cruiser. The high-explosive artillery rounds began to impact upon the hull of the cruiser, tearing away at its structure with each blow. As if it was being prodded by a sharp object, the cruiser started to turn its orientation towards the source of its annoyance. An eerie green glow began to emanate from the beam cannon emitter array while it gathered the energy necessary for the firing of its main cannon.

"Shit! We have to get out of here!" the Rabbit Team sniper pilot exclaimed. Kanaria reacted by pushing off of the asteroid, but the mass of her VB was making her escape rather slow. The sniper immediately got up from his position and used his 25G to help push his team leader to safety before they were destroyed by the imminent beam cannon strike. Both pilots' hearts were racing; fearing for their own lives in the face of complete annihilation. Unfortunately for them, their other two teammates were engaged in combat too far away to be able to help them in time.

As was anticipated, the Vajra cruiser opened fire towards the asteroid upon which Rabbit Team had been camping. All matter within the beam was instantly pulverized into nothing, but the cruiser had fired with a sweeping motion in an attempt to cut down the escaping pests. For Kanaria and her sniper pilot, time slowed down to a near halt while they watched the green column of death creeping closer to them from behind. Before the visual effects of the beam even reached them, its radiant heat energy began to melt the armor away from both vehicles.

From Ozma's cockpit, he could hear the two pilots beginning to scream out in terror as they were slowly consumed by the intense energy being emitted from the cruiser. His face bore a look of determination, despite what he was hearing. The press of a button on his control stick released a salvo of missiles, which quickly found their targets. The beam emitter array on the cruiser sustained critical damage from Ozma's attack as his VF-25S could be seen quickly retreating from inside of the cruiser.

Just as the beam reached Kanaria and her sniper pilot, it stopped approaching them and its intensity began to wane. Unfortunately, their ships had sustained massive damage. The 25G's computer ejected its pilot just in time to save him from the explosion of his own ship. The destruction of that VF rocked the remains of Kanaria's VB and she continued to yell out in terror, hoping that her own ship would maintain its structural integrity and save her from certain death.

The Vajra cruiser was getting rocked by internal explosions, probably caused by the damage to its beam emitter array while it was firing. The feedback of excess energy being routed into the beam cannon found its way into other parts of the ship and began to wreak havoc upon its structure. The explosions began to get larger and larger, until its reactor finally reached critical and detonated. Large chunks of the cruiser ejected from the enormous pyrotechnic cloud created by its destruction.

Several moments later, a collision with debris began to knock out the windows to the VB's cockpit and caused some structural damage to the protective shell that keeps the pilot from harm. The recently-ejected sniper pilot used his EX-gear to fly closer to the cockpit of the VB to make sure that his team leader was alright. "Lieutenant! Are you okay?" There was no response over the radio and he found an opening into the cockpit to physically check on Kanaria.

Inside of the floating husk, Kanaria was still firmly seated in her chair. He found his way down to her and grabbed her shoulder. "Lieutenant!" He gasped as he noticed the nearly-catatonic look on her face. This strong, unwavering woman was terrified out of her mind, traumatized by the prospect of her own death. She stared blankly out in front of her as the pace of her breathing bordered upon hyperventilation. Just as he started to wave his hands in front of her field of vision to get her attention, his radio began to carry Ozma's voice.

"Rabbit Team, come in! What's your status!" The sniper pilot stopped what he was doing to answer his squadron leader's request. "Sir, Lieutenant Berstein seems to be in a state of shock. If I didn't know any better, I think she needs medical attention!" "How badly is she hurt?" He looked her over for a moment before answering. "I don't think she's physically hurt. She looks like she's undergoing some kind of psychological shock. She'll probably need some kind of sedative to calm her down." He reached down to try and grab her hand so he could try and make her feel better, but he struggled to remove them from their position. Despite her condition, she retained an iron grip onto her controls.

Finally, the other two pilots in Rabbit Team approached the partially-destroyed VB-6 in an attempt to help out in any way they could. "Oh God, Lieutenant!" Ozma gave his orders to the two remaining pilots, "Rabbit Team, you need to get her to the medical frigate near the Quarter. I'm counting on you to save her, alright?" "Yes, Sir!" they said as they used their battroids to grip the remains of the VB and boosted off back towards the other battlegroup in the distance.

…

On the Quarter's bridge, news of further losses to Skull Squadron reached the ears of the crew. Ozma opened up a comm line to his mothership, "I need reinforcements up here to support our upcoming attack on the Galaxy fleet's interior! We're going to be running out of ammunition soon and we don't have any large-scale weapons to inflict the amount of damage needed to finish these guys off." Captain Wilder looked at Lam, hoping to hear news of a response to his request for the surrender of the Galaxy fleet. She simply shook her head.

Cal opened his comm line to the Quarter's bridge. "Quarter, I still have my MDE bombs. Send me out to join the rest of the squadron so I can put these babies to good use!" Captain Wilder thought about it for a moment and stood up to respond. "Lieutenant Wagner, proceed to the front lines. Commander Klang, you will accompany him and make sure that he delivers his payload successfully. The Quarter should be fine on it's own, since we are now safely located within the rest of the battlegroup." "Acknowledged, Quarter!" they both replied. They quickly disappeared from view, on their way to engage the bulk of the Galaxy fleet.

Captain Wilder sat down just as Commander Ortiz turned to him. "Are you sure that the two of them will be enough to make a difference?" Wilder began to punch some commands into his console; no doubt his next orders to the fleet. "I know that those two will get the job done, but just to be sure that there won't be any unnecessary loss of lives, I'll send another squadron to back them up. Ozma did say that his pilots were running low on ammunition."

Just as the Quarter's battlegroup finished off the remaining ships of the nearby attacking Galaxy group, Lam turned to Captain Wilder to inform him of an incoming transmission. "Sir! I'm getting a response on the hailing frequency!" "Put it up." The bridge's main monitor opened up the transmission to reveal the image of several bright shapes, interconnected in a web of endless strands of light. Mena immediately recognized the image. "That's... that's the Galaxy's hive mind!" Several gasps could be heard amongst the bridge crew.

"Your infidelity will _not_ go unpunished!" a cacophony of voices sounded, "You Frontier pests ever remain the thorn in our side, but we will teach you the consequences of opposing the evolution of humanity into the ultimate form! Bear witness to the never-ending cycle of life that this state of being possesses!" The voices quieted down as the image changed to show a complex cluster of machinery and wiring, which housed a familiar body. The whirring and humming of the computers and machinery ascended in sound. Following a few moments, the body came to life and sat up after the shell opened.

"I... am reborn again!" a familiar voice said. "Grace O'Connor? It can't be!" Captain Wilder exclaimed. Grace's new body emerged from the mechanical cocoon and stood with the posture of a heavenly being. "I take form once again in order to show you the destiny that awaits you and your ilk; Humankind and Zentraedi alike." She then gracefully motioned for someone in the room to come nearer to her. With almost robot-like movements, another familiar body took its place standing next to her. Grace sensually embraced it by wrapping her arms around its upper torso and caressed its face with her fingertips.

The entire bridge crew gasped as the realized who it was. "Leon Mishima?" Captain Wilder exclaimed once more. His body was severely altered with cybernetic implants, nearly obscuring his identity from the Quarter's crew. Grace turned her gaze back towards the camera and smiled with an evil demeanor. "This man once showed his love to me, but he quickly betrayed me when he found the opportunity to seize power that was not meant to be his. In return for his betrayal, he has been made anew; his love for his Queen restored and made to last for all eternity." Mena wore a disgusted look on her face as she added appropriate commentary, "How horrible! It may be what he deserves, but to be enslaved like that... I can't imagine being kept alive in that state!" Several of the crew grunted in agreement.

Grace continued to embrace Leon's body as she finished her terrifying speech, "Obedience will be rewarded with eternal life; resistance will be punished with death! The choice is yours!" Captain Wilder finally stood up to confront the demigodess, Grace. "I find it ironic that you ask us to _choose_ to give up our freedom of choice. Such is the preposterousness of your demands and of your way of life. We will all continue to make our own choices for as long as we live; we _choose_ to remain free!" Everyone on the bridge exclaimed to support their Captain's words, "Yeah!"

Grace's face filled with a bit of frustration. She let go of Leon's body and returned to her heavenly posture. "Fools! Then you _choose_ death! Let my resurrection become the harbinger of your destruction. Your obstinate ways will only lead to your undoing. To resist the natural course of evolution is to defy the very will of the Universe. You will be crushed under the enormous pressure of our superior state of being!" Grace practically floated out the view of the camera, maintaining her god-like posture. Her intention was to let the crew continue to gaze upon what she deemed to be their destiny.

From the Quarter's bridge, everyone could see that Leon's waning sense of humanity was trying to emerge from the iron-clad shell of cybernetic enslavement. As he stood perfectly still, his eyes began to water; telling the story of his conquered free will. It was as if he was begging the people of Frontier for his own death; a fate that far outweighed the one that laid before him in his current state. Within moments, the communications lines were cut. The bridge crew was left to ponder and consider what had just occurred before their eyes. Even though they had all come to accept the fact that Leon was the cause of so much death and destruction to their colony, he was also the one who led them to their promised land... the planet Aimo. Despite their lingering hatred for him, they could not help but feel sorry for him and in their minds, they would be willing to oblige to his grisly request.

Several seconds later, Monica's radar station began to alert her of more defold reactions occurring near the rest of the remaining Galaxy fleet. Reinforcements were sure to be coming in; ready to assert the will of their Queen upon the Frontier fleet. From Luca's perspective, it was an opportunity for him to make a difference in this fight. "_Now's my chance!_" he thought to himself. "Alto! Cover me!" he said as his RVF-25 boosted off towards the source of the developing defold reactions just outside of the Galaxy fleet's extremities. "Luca! Where the hell...?" Alto said. Without much more than those words, he gritted his teeth and flew off to cover his good friend.

The first of the series of defold reactions developed into a hyperspace portal, from which emerged another Deneb-class cruiser. Upon confirming that another Galaxy battlegroup was defolding into the area, Luca began to use his sensors to pinpoint the locations of the other reactions that were ready to give birth to more hostile capital ships. Targeting the emptiness of space in several places with his avionics, Luca fired several torpedo-sized missiles away from his bird. Breathing heavily in anticipation, he watched his sensor readout, which was superimposed over the readout that showed the relative positions of his torpedoes.

Alto fought to stave off attacking craft from Luca's position and watched the mysterious actions of the green RVF nearby. The torpedoes all sailed towards the newly-formed holes in space and when the capital ships began to emerge, the torpedoes each detonated nearby. A nearly-invisible shockwave emanated from Luca's torpedoes, briefly warping and refracting the light that happened to be passing through that space at that very moment. As if they were reacting to the explosions, the portals began to prematurely close before the craft were done exiting.

Watching in amazement, Skull Squadron witnessed each of those ships literally get cut in half by the forced closure of the hyperspace portals. Most of the severed hulks listed away from the closed portals for a few seconds before they exploded in a violent fashion. Luca grinned from ear-to-ear upon seeing the results of his attack. It seems that the torpedoes he was testing worked perfectly. "Nice, Luca!" Ozma cheered. Alto was still awestruck at the surprise that took place in front of him. "That is one hell of a weapon! I am guessing those came courtesy of our friends at LAI?" Luca simply nodded as he piloted his RVF back towards the rest of the squadron, with Alto in tow.

However, Luca's torpedoes only destroyed a portion of the emerging fleet. There were still many new ships joining into the fight, once again making the Frontier fleet's job all-the-more daunting. Several more squadrons of Galaxy fighters began to fill the immediate space between the two fleets, saturating the area with munitions fire once more.

A detachment of fighters began to head straight towards the retreating Rabbit Team. Both VF-25s were continuing to guide the remains of the VB-6 towards friendly territory when they detected the incoming threat. "Shit! There's a bunch of them coming straight for us!" one of the pilots yelled out. Both battroids turned around and drew their gunpods, in preparation to defend themselves from the incoming onslaught of Galaxy fighters. Before they could even open fire, two high-speed craft passed them from the direction of the friendly fleet in the distance. Weaving through the projectile fire, both craft continued straight into the Galaxy squadron before they each unloaded a salvo of missiles and split directions left and right.

Cal's RVF peeled away at a perpendicular angle to the Galaxy fighters, leaving a flashbang behind at close intervals. The Ghost V-9s began to chase him, but the VF-27s began to scatter erratically; the flashbangs confused them and removed their ability to use their senses for a moment. A pulse from his radome and the Ghosts also began to peel away from his six from the ECM jamming. His RVF transformed to GERWALK form and quickly turned around to face the disoriented Galaxy fighters. Cal's eyes darted at a million miles an hour, and the helmet-mounted tracking laser followed each movement as he instructed his targeting computer on what craft to lock the rest of his missiles onto. Each missile quickly left their bays and once he was done releasing them, he transformed back to fighter mode to engage the rest of the targets with only his gunpod left.

Having already shredded through the bulk of the squadron, Klan's Queadluun charged through space with the rest of the Galaxy fighters trailing behind her. She was almost too fast for them to keep up and she increased the distance between herself and the fighters a bit more before she turned around to charge straight into their formation. She fired straight into the group of fighters with both of her arm-mounted pulse cannons, hitting several targets while the rest of them peeled out of formation and tried to engage her from the side as she passed by. Each fighter that fell out of formation was immediately rewarded with a single missile charging straight at their vehicle with relentless zeal.

From a distance, it was as if her Queadluun was traveling through a tunnel of explosions. Even though he was still tangling with some Galaxy fighters on his end, Cal watched with amazement at the ease that Klan was displaying in her combat. "Goddamn, woman! Remind me not to find myself on the other side of the battlefield as you." She grinned in satisfaction as the final fighter fell before her. Her radio continued Cal's voice, "Now get your ass over here and help me get out of this little jam. These guys are turning out to be a real pain in the neck!" Klan scoffed at his request, but she began to head in his direction. "Typical man... always needs a woman to clean up after him!" "Pfft... Giant or not, I can still whoop your ass no matter what form you're in if I wanted to. Just remember that!" She heartily laughed at the audacity of his claims. Whether or not he really believed in what he had just said, it was still funny as hell to hear it. "I would _love_ to see you try!"

Ozma was beginning to get impatient while he waited for a response from the fleet over his request for some supporting craft. "Quarter, our window of opportunity is closing! We need some more firepower up here quickly!" Just as he sent his message, Klan and Cal zoomed by his position in a bit of a blur. "Nevermind, Quarter!" he said as he realized that they were part of his reinforcements. The red coloring of Klan's Queadluun was all that Ozma needed to recognize his squadron's former executive officer.

"Klan! What the hell are you doing out here? I thought you were still on Aimo with your new squadron!" "I'll tell you about it later. Let's just get through this alive, alright? Help me cover Lieutenant Wagner so he can drop off these MDE bombs into the heart of the Galaxy fleet!" Ozma was relieved that someone still had their bomb ordnance to deliver. Even though it was only a couple of bombs, it was better than nothing. "Okay, guys! Form up on the Commander's wing and keep those guys off of Wagner!" All of the fighters nearby joined in the formation; VF-25s, VF-171EXs, Nousjadeul-Gers, and Queadluun Rheas all gathered in a small area of space, determined to complete the mission bestowed upon them.

From the front of the formation, Klan could see a nice, soft spot in the fleet's formation. Several capital ships had clustered up around what looked like the fleet's flagship, another Altair-class carrier. However, a small screen of fighters blocked their path into the fleet's heart. In the very center of the Galaxy fighter formation, a VF-27 gamma watched over his fleet with vigilance. As if she was being called out by the 27-gamma, Klan immediately picked him out and charged straight for him.

"This guy is mine!" she said over the comm lines. "Wait, I want him!" Ozma interrupted. "Too late, I already called it. You can find your own 27-gamma to tangle with later! Sorry!" Ozma knew he had been beaten to the punch by his former chickling. A huge grin formed on his face in reaction to her words. Just like a parent who realizes that their child has finally grown into an adult, the squadron leader reveled in the fact that his former chickling had become an extremely capable pilot now in charge of her own brood.

The formation of Galaxy fighters scattered to engage the encroaching Frontier formation. Cal had to bank out of his trajectory to avoid an initial blast from one of the 27s' heavy beam cannons. The rest of the Frontier fighters moved out of formation to distract their enemies from the true threat contained within their ranks; Cal's RVF, which carried the MDE bombs. His RVF continued to fire it's gunpod forward at the incoming targets while he charged into the small cluster of capital ships. A couple of Ghost drones passed by him, but they had been hit by his projectile fire, causing them to explode behind his bird.

Both sides began to incur losses through the exchange of munitions fire, but the Galaxy fighters had the support of their own ships' AA fire. There was only a limited amount of time before attrition would lead to the demise of the amalgamation of Frontier fighters. As if they had guessed the strategy correctly, the movements of the Galaxy squadron did well to hinder Cal's progress through their ranks. Several salvos of missiles caused him to alter his attack trajectory and leave behind a few packets of chaff to distract them away from his bird.

From behind, he could see a 27 moving in at an angle to intercept him. Fortunately, the pilot was so focused on catching Cal, he didn't notice that there was someone covering the RVF's six. A spray of gunpod fire perforated the hull of the 27, sending it spinning off into space before it finally exploded. Luca's RVF took formation behind Cal's bird, following his kill. "Much appreciated, good Sir! Getting some nice kills, are we?" Cal asked. "Oh, that little thing? Have you ever taken out multiple warships with a single spread of missiles? I have!" Luca responded with a confident laugh. "Hah! Can't say that I have... but we'll see if I can do some comparable damage with these bombs!" Cal was glad that Luca was getting into the spirit of being a combat pilot. It was nice to hear that slight hint of cockiness in Luca's voice.

Nearby, Klan seemed to be toying with her prey, like a cat stalking a mouse. Just the same as the other 27-gamma that Pixie Team had fought, this pilot felt it necessary to talk shit over the comm lines during the dogfight. "I don't have any record of your Queadluun's configuration in our memory banks, but yours will soon go down in defeat." A smirk crept across Klan's face. For some reason, it made it all the more fun to put cocky pilots in their place. "It's funny how you think that I have actually been trying to destroy you all this time. I'm just trying not to damage your gunpod so I can keep it as a trophy! Make sure you're sending combat information to your buddies. I want them to be able to see how badly you get humiliated."

Her words seemed to rub the 27-gamma's pilot the wrong way. "Well, come and get it, then!" he said as he transformed his VF into battroid form and drew his gunpod towards the attacking Queadluun. Using the quickness and agility of her power armor, Klan quickly closed in on her opponent by weaving in and around his spread of gunpod fire. He used his engines to continue backing away from her, but the Queadluun Rasa was far too fast to maintain any semblance of comfort-distance between them. "You're just too slow!" she taunted right before she moved directly into melee range of her opponent.

Rather than immediately going for the kill, she shifted to the side to avoid the business-end of his gunpod. She positioned her Queadluun with its back to him, while grabbing the handle of his gunpod with one hand. With the other hand, the combat knife extended outward from under the forearm and glowed with the pin-point barrier's effect. A quick swipe severed the 27-gamma's arm and she then spun around to place a heavy kick to the battroid's chest. He sailed away out of control, followed by a stream of debris that peeled away from his armor. She ripped the severed robotic hand away from the gunpod, placed her own into the trigger, and fired. The 27-gamma was instantly perforated with the projectile fire from his own gunpod; a humiliating way to be shot down, indeed.

Klan licked her lips in absolute satisfaction from her trophy kill. She seems to enjoy finding the most unorthodox ways to destroy her opponents. The last 27-gamma got ripped in half by her, before she pulverized the remains with a few well-placed missiles. They're the kind of kills that would send shudders of fear rippling through the ranks of her opponents when they see that kind of precision and thoroughness in her work. She quickly mounted her souvenir onto the weapons rack on her back and boosted off to find Cal again.

…

Back on the Quarter's bridge, Captain Wilder was losing his patience over the amount of time it has taken to end the battle. With every passing moment, good soldiers were losing their lives to this useless struggle. "How much longer is it going to take to deliver those MDE bombs?" Ozma had to answer to Wilder's question, "Unknown, Sir. We're facing heavy resistance here, but we're making progress. If we can just get a little more push, we might be able to break through and unload the bomb ordnance without risk of having them shot down before they reach their targets."

Almost on queue, alerts began to sound from Monica's radar station. "More defolds are forming from behind us and from behind the Galaxy fleet!" Captain Wilder dropped down into his chair like a rock. "God_dammit_!" he exclaimed. Just when it seemed like the fight was about to be over, more uninvited guests barge their way into the party. "Monica, are they friendly?" the Captain asked. She watched the radar station for a moment, but then turned towards him and stared blankly in his direction. It seemed like all of the will to continue fighting had been sapped from her body.

Out in space, the new defold reactions began to form into hyperspace portals, from which emerged Vajra cruisers and drones. While the Vajra capital ships began to assume an attack posture, the drones scattered in several directions on both fronts. In the minds of pretty much everyone in the fleet, it was becoming obvious that their fates were hanging in the balance. Every time they wear down the Galaxy forces to the brink of defeat, their numbers get reinforced by a seemingly-unlimited supply of combat-ready forces.


	33. Desperate Measures

"What are your orders, Captain?" Commander Ortiz inquired. Aside from the sound of alerts chiming at various stations on the bridge, it was otherwise quiet on the command deck. Finally, Captain Wilder was beginning to show fatigue in his demeanor. Over and over, he's been able to block the Galaxy fleet's every aggressive move and minimize his own fleet's losses. This was one stacked game of chess that he was engaged in. However, there were only so many pieces on the board that he could use to defend and protect. His opponent's pieces seemed to find their way back on the board, pressing their attack even further into his defenses until the inevitable checkmate would rear its ugly head.

After deliberating for a few short moments, he preceded his words with a heavy sigh, "The fleet must defend itself from the group of Vajra headed this way." Another labored sigh exited his mouth before continuing, "The fighter groups at the front line are going to have to defend themselves without our support. Our capital ships are the highest priority and it looks like we will have to make some sacrifices to be able to successfully defend ourselves." Nobody on the bridge liked to hear his words. They knew that it was a very difficult decision to have to make, but it was necessary. Captain Wilder looked towards Jen. "Lieutenant, inform the squadron commanders of the situation." Jen stared at him with disbelief for a few moments before she nodded and turned back to her console to relay the macabre orders.

From the front lines, the news was quite chilling. To find out that you're completely surrounded and you have little chance of surviving is quite an unnerving sensation. The only thing left to do is to go out with a huge blaze of glory and hope that you can take as many of your opponents with you as you can before you buy the farm. It was Ozma's job once again to rally the troops. "Alright, maggots! Listen up! You heard the news. Let's not let it make us forget our mission out here. We've got some MDE bombs to deliver into the heart of the Galaxy fleet and I'd like to finish this last mission before I leave this plane of existence. Let's change up the game plan a bit, here; all units, Remember Sixteen!" Ozma's orders were quickly met with an ambitious affirmation by his pilots.

Back on the Quarter's bridge, Jen turned back to Captain Wilder to inform him of the completion of her task. "All squadrons have been notified, Captain." "Thank you," Wilder responded. However, he could see that Jen's eyes were glazing over before she turned back to her station. She knew that those brave pilots out there probably weren't going to make it back home after this was all over; especially Cal. Indeed, it was difficult for her to relay the orders to the squadron leaders and keep her voice from gaining emotional inflections. There was still much for her to have to do and the prospect of the destruction of her own ship had to be causing a lot of damage to her concentration.

By then, both groups of Vajra had completely emerged from hyperspace and were charging at their targets at top speed. The group at the rear of the Frontier fleet had begun to assume a very aggressive attack posture. "The fleet is now in its defensive position in anticipation for the Vajra attack, Captain!" Monica reported. Captain Wilder simply nodded and turned to Commander Ortiz. "Execute the attack pattern, Commander." Ortiz turned to Bobby and nodded. Without hesitation, Bobby leaned into his controls and the Macross Quarter began to charge towards the front of the defensive line. No doubt, Captain Wilder wanted his own ship to flex its power in order to inflict as much damage as possible to the incoming Vajra fleet. If they were probably going to be destroyed, it would be better to be on the offensive, than to be cowering behind the cover of the rest of the fleet's ships.

With its Macross Cannon fully charged, the Quarter emerged from its resting position with ambition and Bobby was ready to unload his deadly salvo onto the nearest group of Vajra. Just as the Quarter raised its Macross Cannon into firing position, Lam turned from her station and called out to her commanding officers. "Wait! Don't fire on the Vajra!" A hesitant silence fell over the bridge as they waited for an explanation for her outburst. "These Vajra are emitting the same fold wave pattern as Sheryl and Ranka!" Commander Ortiz didn't have much time to deliberate; their survival was on the line. "What does that mean? Be quick about it!" he ordered.

Lam didn't hesitate to try to explain it as best as she could, "It's almost as if... as if the Vajra are singing the same song! It's like they're trying to tell us that they're here to help us. Maybe they're under friendly control!" Commander Ortiz didn't like to make assumptions and he was quick to respond. "I'm sorry, but that just doesn't seem like a good reason to risk our own safety." He turned to Bobby to speak again, "Proceed with the attack."

Fortunately, Bobby stalled for a moment. It was enough time for Captain Wilder to interject. "Hold your fire! She may be right. These Vajra don't seem to be moving with the robotic-like behavior that we've seen from the Galaxy-controlled bugs. If it's one thing that I've had to learn to believe in, it's the miracle that is the power of Ranka's and Sheryl's songs." Commander Ortiz couldn't believe his ears. "Captain! If she's wrong, we will be destroyed!" Captain Wilder simply smiled and made himself comfortable in his chair. Ortiz was powerless to do anything else. It seemed that the rest of the bridge crew were in support of the Captain's decision and of Lam's opinion.

The front-most Vajra cruiser assumed a firing posture and super-dimensional energy began to gather in front of its beam cannon emitter array. A unanimous gasp sounded on the bridge of the Quarter as they watched what could be their demise unfold in the distance. However, while it was charging up for a blast, the cruiser turned its attitude towards the Galaxy fleet in the distance; away from the Frontier fleet. With a powerful burst of energy, the cruiser fired upon one of the Galaxy ships on the edge of their defensive line. The Galaxy cruiser suffered a critical hit from the blast, causing it to break into half before both pieces exploded.

The advance wave of Vajra drones entered the Frontier fleet's formation without firing a single shot upon the friendly forces contained within it. Countless groups of drones took up defensive positions around the ships, including the area near the Quarter where Pixie Team had once been defending their mothership. The rest of the drones continued on to the front lines of the battle, no doubt to assist the Frontier forces in their mission. Sighs of relief and brief fits of relaxed laughter came from most of the bridge crew as they realized that they were actually being reinforced by the most unlikely of allies.

Several pairs of eyes focused on both Captain Wilder and Lam, in order to gauge their reactions. Captain Wilder finally cut the tension with a laugh that started out quiet and increased in intensity until the whole bridge could hear it. The rest of the crew couldn't help but smile and laugh along; they could just as easily have been killed by that moment, but things worked out in their favor. Nervously laughing it off seemed like the best way to deal with the overcoming feeling of relief that they were now sensing. "Lam, I need an open channel to the fleet," he ordered. She nodded just as he stood up to speak to the soldiers who were still fighting for their survival.

"Attention, all ships!" a brief pause followed his initial words, "These Vajra have not come here to destroy us; rather, it appears that they have come to help us quickly put an end to this deadly conflict. They resonate the same songs that Ranka and Sheryl sing for us and it is those same songs that have guided us to victory in the past. Together, as allies once again, we will put down Galaxy's tyrannical ambitions and maintain the freedom that we have all fought so hard to achieve!" Indeed, the Captain's words served their purpose well by further motivating his soldiers to continue fighting hard until the job is done.

Near the heart of the Galaxy's fleet, enormous confusion began to muddle both factions. Galaxy's fighters and capital ships scurried about to defend themselves from the unexpected attack from both sides. For the assaulting Frontier forces, they were still stuck between a rock and a hard place. "How the hell are we supposed to tell the good bugs from the bad ones? Didn't Captain Wilder mention something about the good ones 'resonating' the songs?" Cal asked. Ozma already knew what had to be done. "Luca, can you integrate your fold-wave sensor data with the targeting system and broadcast it to our computers?" "I'm already working on it, Commander. By differentiating the ones who are resonating the song in the fold spectrum, I can use my sensor data to tag the friendly Vajra with our own IFF signature. I'll send the procedure out to all of the RVFs in the fleet so they can relay targeting data to the fighters nearest to them."

Once again, Luca's expertise in electronic warfare is coming in very handy. Several moments after his response to Ozma's question, the targeting systems on all of the fighters refreshed with the new data. An endless sea of hostile signatures quickly diluted in number and revealed the true strength of the Frontier fleet's opponent. "Ah, that's more like it!" Ozma said, "Now we can finish this mission and maybe even go home after all of this is over!" The prospect of returning home after being deployed into space for the last couple of months was something that all of the pilots could look forward to.

Although they were now benefiting from the assistance of the newly-emerged Vajra fleet, the pilots on the front lines still had a fight on their hands. Completely surrounded and saturated by enemy fire, friendly pilots were being shot down at regular intervals. "Wagner, we're on a tight time constraint here. Where the hell are those MDE bombs?" Ozma barked while engaged in a dogfight with another VF-27. "These guys aren't stupid. They won't let me near their ships and I can't break through their defenses. As much as I hate to admit it, I need some help!" Cal replied.

His request for help was well-founded; each time he approached the cluster of ships positioned near the flagship, he would get rebuffed by a vigilant defense squadron. Even good pilots know when they're in over their heads, and Cal was no exception. He managed to survive several failed attempts to penetrate the defensive formation, but his luck quickly ran out. A group of emboldened Galaxy fighters finally began to chase him around, hoping to nullify the threat that he was carrying on the hardpoints under his wings. A trail of chaff and flares marked his escape route in an attempt to free himself from his pursuers. However, even his countermeasures had a limited supply. After only a few moments of pursuit, Cal's display counted down his remaining countermeasures until they all reached a large red "0".

With a click of his tongue, he snapped his throttle 90 degrees to transform his VF into a battroid. Still careening through space at high speeds, he was forced to use his gunpod to destroy the incoming missiles. Unfortunately, it was not good enough to fix the **root** of the problem; the pursuing VF-27s. A single 27 managed to grab ahold of the evasive RVF-25 and keep him in place to allow his partner to finally get rid of the pest. Cal groaned in his cockpit as he fumbled with his controls in an attempt to free himself, but to no avail. The tag-team was a more than he could handle and he could only helplessly watch as the second attacker began to charge at him with his combat knife in hand.

The attacker didn't get a chance to even get close to Cal before he was perforated by gunpod fire. Almost simultaneously, Ozma's battroid passed by them and ran his own combat knife longways through the hull of the VF-27 that was holding Cal in place. The now-lifeless 27 no longer had an iron grip on Cal's RVF and he did not have to try very hard to wrest free. In front of him, Cal could see Alto's and Ozma's VF-25s attempting to break the defensive line that had long been standing in his way. A moment later, Klan's red Queadluun zoomed by to join the incursion being led by Alto and Ozma. "C'mon, chickling! You're getting too slow!" she taunted. Cal simply shook his head and smiled while he flipped his throttle control back to the right and transformed his RVF into a fighter once more.

From the perspective of the Quarter, the Galaxy fleet was under heavy attack from the combined forces of the Frontier and Vajra fleet. Without warning, two dimensional rifts opened up near the cluster of ships protecting the flagship. Cal had finally delivered his MDE bombs right on target. An entire side of the flagship's defensive line was immediately consumed by the tactical bombs, leaving the precious command ship wide open for attack. Captain Wilder calmly sat in his chair and mumbled under his breath with a satisfied smile, "Checkmate."

The bridge of the Galaxy fleet's flagship was guarded by a small group of VF-27's while they kept a lookout for any incoming enemy ships. Almost instantly, they were forced to dodge gunpod fire from Alto and Ozma and entered pursuit of the two pilots. In their zeal to protect their mothership, they did not even notice that it was a feint move designed to draw the defenses away from the ship. Only a few moments later, the flagship's bridge was met with a red Queadluun holding one of their own fighters' gunpods pointed directly at the crew inside.

"Galaxy fleet, this is your last chance at surrender; save yourselves and the lives of your soldiers, or you leave us no choice," Klan demanded over the hailing frequency. Energy coursed along the length of the gunpod as she waited for an answer; threatening to make good on her promise, should they choose to continue fighting. It only took a few moments before a response began to play over the comm lines. "Her Eminence, Grace O'Connor, commands that we are to destroy any and all opposition to her desires. Under no circumstances are we to surrender to the likes of you!"

In a final act of defiance, the fleet's flagship began to accelerate forward; its intentions unknown. Aghast at their response, Klan hesitated for a moment before she convinced herself that it was okay to fire upon the bridge of an otherwise-defenseless ship. Unfortunately, her hesitation gave away too much time and she was suddenly rocked by a collision with one of the VF-27s who had been chasing Alto and Ozma away from the bridge. Her gunpod discharged, but her aim was compromised by the collision and the charged blast found its way into a non-critical area of the flagship. Significant damage was done to the area, but it was not enough to cripple it.

After a few seconds of forward velocity, a hyperspace portal opened up in front of the flagship and it exited the battlefield before too much collateral damage was inflicted. The VF-27 that had attacked Klan quickly retreated to join its mothership in the hyperspace portal. As the opening snapped shut behind the fleeing battleship, Klan scoffed at their cowardice. "They chose to leave their compatriots here to die, in the interest of saving their own skins..." She was quickly rejoined by Alto and Ozma, who had taken care of their pursuers just moments before.

From outside of the fleet, the friendly Vajra cruisers unleashed a salvo of anti-ship beam cannon fire, completely decimating the remaining capital ships in the Galaxy's formation. Seemingly, all that was left was to mop up the remaining hostile ships and start looking for survivors. If only everything were as easy as that sounds... Almost immediately after the Galaxy flagship retreated into hyperspace, another defold reaction formed directly in front of the remaining Frontier battlegroup.

From it, emerged the severely damaged Galaxy flagship, charging towards the direct center of the Frontier fleet. It was distinctly avoiding contact with the capital ships in the formation, opting to simply penetrate the line of ships to get into its interior. This action could only mean one thing: that it was going to self-destruct and take as many lives with it as it could, using another large-scale MDE bomb. It seems that suicidal attacks are the norm for the members of Macross Galaxy military; they were ready to die for the will of their Queen, or so it seemed.

The fighting at the front lines seemed to stop, as if everyone was gasping at the sudden development. All eyes were on the fleet, awaiting a response in an attempt to defend themselves. "Is that what I think it is?" Ozma rhetorically asked. "Those Galaxy cowards really have no limit to the levels that they will sink to in order to indoctrinate the unwilling," Klan replied with yet another scoff. The rest of the pilots watched the events unfold in the distance, quietly hoping that something will stop the impending suicide attack that's obviously intended to destroy the rest of the Frontier fleet.

"Bobby!" Captain Wilder exclaimed. As if he knew what the Captain was thinking, he quickly responded, "We just fired the Macross Cannon! It hasn't finished recharging!" "Dammit!" Wilder said while gritting his teeth. "Is there anything we can do to stop them?" Commander Ortiz asked. Captain Wilder sat in his chair with his hands clasped together while he tried to think of something to do. None of the Zentraedi gunboats were positioned to fire upon the intruding carrier. The only thing the ships in the fleet could do was to scatter their formation in the hopes that they could clear the minimum safe distance before the bomb went off. Smoke billowed from the carrier in several areas, as the turret emplacements on all of the Frontier ships were pouring their munitions fire on it in an attempt to stop the carrier from moving forwards.

The bridge crew of the Quarter watched while the carrier slowly penetrated deeper into the fleet's formation, awaiting the inevitable detonation of the bomb most likely housed and armed within the carrier's hull. Captain Wilder still sat in his chair, unable to reveal an ace hiding up his sleeve. From his perspective, this was one loss that his fleet was going to have to endure. His face slowly began to disappear behind his clasped hands, indicating that he did not have any further orders to his fleet or his ship. The sound of panicked chatter from the crews of other ships continued to echo through the bridge; words that would surely become their last.

It appeared that the carrier had reached an optimal point at which to set off its payload when the impossible happened. From some unknown position in space, a huge blast of super-dimensional energy engulfed the carrier. The hull instantly melted away, exposing the many decks underneath its metallic skin. Within microseconds, the superstructure of the ship vaporized and its soft insides did not last long while contained within the enormous amounts of energy being channeled through it. Once the blast of energy completely passed through the carrier, its charred remains were left adrift in space. Electricity could be seen coursing across several decks before the hulk finally exploded from its reactors going critical. Fortunately, it was a standard explosion, not the creation of a dimensional rift, as was the expectation. The MDE bomb within its hull was most definitely pulverized in the explosion, ensuring the fleet that it was safe from destruction once again.

Just as every single soldier in the fleet violently exhaled in relief, a Quiltra-Quelamitz battleship finished emerging from the hyperspace portal it had been traveling through while it fired on the kamikaze carrier. Just as the bridge crew of the Quarter began to wonder who the mystery ship was, the fleet-wide comm line opened to quench their curiosity. "This is the Eksidos now entering local space. I am Commander Jormun Amai. Quarter, what is your status?" a voice inquired. Captain Wilder responded after he finished exhaling in relief, "Quarter here. It appears that your arrival could not have come at a better time! We thank you for your assistance, Eksidos." "Better late than never, Sir?" Jormun responded. Captain Wilder nodded, "You got that right. Join the party; we'll need all the help we can get to clean this mess up." Silence followed Wilder's request. "Begging your pardon, Sir, but we are just here to collect what belongs to us. We won't be here for long, unless you are in dire need of our assistance," Jormun disappointingly responded. Almost immediately, Wilder knew what they were here for. "No, Commander, we should be able to manage without your ship's presence."

On the front lines, the fight's intensity was beginning to wane. After hearing the exchange between the Eksidos and Quarter over the comm line, Cal could distinctly hear Klan mumbling over the radio. "Crap... That's my queue. I guess I'd better get going," she said with a hint of dejection in her voice. "Huh? **That's** your ship? What do they mean by 'collecting what belongs to them'?" Klan remained silent as she tried to come up with a way to put things without stirring up any more trouble for herself. "I can't talk about it. You're just going to have to use your imagination. You're a sharp one; you'll be able to figure it out." Her red Queadluun immediately stopped what it was doing and charged back to its mothership.

"Where are you going? You're going to leave as quickly as you came?" Cal demanded. His RVF began to follow her Queadluun, but Klan quickly shooed him off, "No! You can't follow me! I'm sorry, Cal..." "...but, sorry for what?" He asked. Klan's face didn't look all-too-happy before she cut off the communication line to Cal's RVF. He still followed her, hoping that she'd eventually answer his question. Ozma's image then appeared on his console in Klan's place. "Wagner! I don't remember dismissing you. You need to get back here and help us finish the mop-up!" he curtly ordered.

Only after a moment's hesitation, Cal stopped his forward progress by transforming to GERWALK and reverse-thrusting to a halt. "Acknowledged, Sir." He then changed to battroid form and appeared to "stand" in space as he watched Klan's red Queadluun gradually disappear into the field of debris that separated himself and the Frontier fleet in the background. Once he could no longer see Klan, Cal quickly flipped his RVF over while transforming to fighter mode and boosted back to rejoin his squadron. Obviously, his mind was partially distracted by things that had nothing to do with combat.

Klan didn't get very far when she was inevitably contacted by Jormun's scolding voice over the radio, "For your sake, I hope that prototype isn't very badly damaged." "Well, 'hello' to you too!" she responded, "For your information, this baby is still in pristine condition- well, aside from a few nicks and scratches here and there... Tell those nerds in the technician team that they're going to be slobbering all over the combat data that I've managed to collect while I'm out here. You can all thank me later!" Jormun was not at all amused by Klan's jokes. "You do realize the trouble you're in over this, right?" She didn't have a witty retort for his statement. She simply acknowledged and cut the communications line with her mothership. For some reason, she didn't feel like hurrying back to her ship anymore.

After such an enormous battle, the soldiers in the fleet welcomed the approaching peace. For several weeks, they had all been looking for something a little more exciting than simple patrols and the occasional skirmish with a handful of Vajra drones. Their prayers had been answered with a battle that could have easily cost them all their lives. The realization of this fact gives them new meaning to the phrase "Be careful what you wish for". Now, they had to look forward to dealing with the pain of losing so many good soldiers, and the gruesome task of cleaning up the mess that they had made in defense of their precious fleet.

...

Despite being millions of miles away from the battle, the tense mood that had overtaken many of the residents on Aimo began to fade. Brera continued to watch his sister sing; studying her every facial movement and physical gesture in an attempt to understand the nature of her emotions when she sings. However, her behavior was somewhat different than when she normally sings at her concerts or in a recording session. When she was about to finish singing, the conclusion suddenly hit him.

"Did it work?" he asked. Ranka exhaled in relief as she opened her eyes and turned to smile at him. "Yeah. How did you know?" "While listening to you sing, I felt the same way as back when we were fighting to save the Vajra from falling under Grace's control. You've been blessed with an amazing gift; to be able to influence the Vajra from afar like that." Ranka began to blush, but she had to point out a slight error in Brera's statement. Shaking her head, she continued to smile as she replied, "I didn't influence them, I _asked_ them. The Vajra are aware of Grace's intentions. Just like us, they are against the enslavement of the sentient species of this galaxy. It's not just our people she intends to conquer; she intends to harness the Vajra as her weapons of war. This is something that they cannot allow to happen, for both their own sake and for the prosperity of all life in this galaxy."

Brera simply began to chuckle at Ranka's answer. She started to feel a little uncomfortable upon seeing his reaction. "What? Why is that funny?" Brera stopped laughing and answered, "It's not. It's just that you are starting to understand what it means to truly be 'alive'. A year ago, do you think that you would have believed it if someone told you that you would be _this_ involved in shaping the future of this colony _and_ its relations with an alien life form?" Ranka stopped smiling for a minute and looked downwards to think about Brera's hypothetical question. "Not in my wildest dreams. I was a naive schoolgirl, trapped in a bubble of my own insecurities. You're right; I have changed a lot." A wry grin crept across Brera's face. "Well... you're still rather naive, if you ask me." Ranka gasped and playfully pushed Brera. "Shut up!" she said with a laugh.

Both brother and sister shared a quick moment of playful bantering and returned to their previous postures, overlooking the sprawling city from the balcony. Ranka became silent once more and hummed a tune while she closed her eyes again. He watched her in silence and waited for her to finish. Once she opened her eyes again, he had another question to ask. "What did you say to them?" "I said 'thank you'!" she said, turning towards Brera once more. She wore the same wry grin as Brera did just moments before as she continued, "I may be 'naive', but at least _I_ have good manners and know when to say 'please' and 'thank you', unlike you!"

Ranka's mockery didn't seem to bother Brera all that much. He simply smiled and scoffed in return while looking back out over the balcony. After a moment of silence, Ranka inched her way closer to her brother and leaned against him, resting her head on his arm. Even though he was hardly human physically, Ranka knew that somewhere in his mostly cybernetic body, beat the heart of her loving brother. She could still feel the warmth of his body, reminding her that no matter how artificial he was, his soul could not be altered or compromised by technology.

…

Jormun stood in the hangar of his ship with his arms crossed while he supervised the repairs to the damaged interior. All around him, there were various mecha and soldiers moving about in an effort to deploy the ship's complement of fighters to help secure the fleet's position. Although Jormun knew that his ship was not necessarily needed at the time, he felt that it would be a sign of good will towards Captain Wilder to offer his ship's assistance for at least a couple of hours. It didn't take too long before the **real **reason for his presence in the hangar finally arrived.

The red Queadluun finally descended from the deck elevator and began to walk towards its holding pen. Klan finally got a firsthand look at the gaping hole she had left during her hasty exit back on Aimo. The results of her brazen actions were beginning to grind away at her sense of guilt and the sight of Jormun standing nearby the repair crew was not very comforting. He made it very obvious of his disapproval by staring directly at her Queadluun while she maneuvered her power armor back into its maintenance cradle. In an attempt to slough off her guilty conscience, she simply sighed and rolled her eyes in reaction to Jormun's tense demeanor.

A team of technicians practically jumped onto the now-seated Queadluun. They had missed their precious prototype and couldn't wait to harvest the precious combat and flight data that had been recorded during Klan's little excursion. As they scurried about the riggings to attach data cables and other maintenance attachments, the hatch popped open to allow the pilot to exit the craft. Klan made sure she grabbed her cockpit decorations before she descended onto the hangar deck. The first thing she did when she turned around was look directly at Jormun to see what he would do. He still stood with his arms folded and a disconcerted look on his face.

To her surprise, he simply flicked his head towards the hangar exit to tell her to follow him and then turned around to walk away. This was definitely not the reaction she had been expecting from him. Even though she wanted to believe that what she had done was not such a big deal, she knew that in reality, there was probably a shitstorm heading her way. The technicians and hangar personnel seemed to make an effort to avoid talking to her or even looking at her; they had probably been instructed to do so by the ship's first officer.

Klan had lost sight of where Jormun went, but continued towards the hangar exit anyways. Upon passing through the doorway, she heard his voice from her left. "Klan." She stopped, almost saluting him out of that nagging feeling of guilt festering in the back of her mind. "Sir?" He looked at her with a hint of disappointment, but she could also see some hesitation on his part. Something was keeping him from jumping down her throat. "Hit the showers. When you're done, report to the Captain's office on the bridge. It would be wise to get up there quickly." Klan stood there for a moment in slight amazement. Part of her just wanted to get the ass-chewing out of the way as quickly as possible. She nodded and continued into the locker room to get cleaned up.

…

While activity buzzed all around him in the hangar, Cal took the time to look over his ship after disembarking from the cockpit. Several perforations marked the hull of his RVF from some hits he had taken while battling Galaxy's forces. However, he focused on the nosecone and underside of the fuselage, where a large chunk had been taken off by the ace VF-27 pilot who nearly killed him. Coupled with the projectile fire damage sustained at various places on his craft, it was easy for him to put things into perspective when it comes to how close he came to buying the farm.

Pilots can't help but project some of their love towards their vehicles. Not only are they the vessels they use to fight, but they also protect the pilot from harm. Cal began to feel a bit of a sense of gratitude towards his RVF. As he started to realize how much damage he had really taken, he smiled at the fact that his bird had continued to operate at peak performance levels during combat. It gives one the ability to appreciate the work that was put into developing and constructing such an amazing piece of machinery. Even though it was an inanimate object, Cal treated it like it was a partner.

"Oh, man," he said as he ran his hands over the hull of his RVF, "They really did a number on you, didn't they?" He grasped at the edge of one of the holes in the ship's armor, taking care not to cut himself on the jagged metal. "We'll get you fixed up real quick so you can look oh-so-perfect once more!" he confidently stated. However, he couldn't help but continue to stare at the chunk of metal missing from the underside of the fuselage. His mind replayed the cause of the damage to his ship. That VF-27 Gamma turned out to be more than he could handle and his pride as a pilot nearly cost him his life.

"It looks like I couldn't handle as much as you could," he said to the bird, referencing his loss of consciousness while performing those high-speed maneuvers. While the RVF was able to react to his every command and did not seem to lose any of its structural integrity, the ISC and EX-gear systems had met their limits and his own body was not able to handle the g-forces reaching his body. He knew that once he had lost voluntary control of his body, the RVF's computer had to assist him in regaining control of his bird. "Thanks for your help out there. I wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for you," he spoke to his ship once more.

Just as he said that, though, he remembered the **other** reason he was still alive: Klan had saved his life once more. She was always there to protect him when he really needed her, and it was this fact that had pushed his feelings for her over the edge the week before; to the point where he couldn't contain them within himself anymore. On the other side of the coin, he'd been there to protect her on a few occasions in their past. Perhaps this was all she needed to feel the same way about Cal that he does about her.

He had stopped moving for a moment and stared through the hull of his RVF as he pondered those facts. After a moment of introspection, he snapped back to reality and turned to walk out from underneath his bird. He only managed to take one step when he saw Jen standing next to the ladder that led to his cockpit. She wore a smile and kept her arms folded while she watched Cal performing his strange pilot rituals. "What?" he asked. A slight blush found its way onto his face because he was a little mortified that someone had been watching him intimately talking to his RVF.

Jen just shook her head, indicating that it was nothing. "I am just curious to learn about the many little nuances and superstitions that pilots possess," she said as she approached Cal's position underneath his bird. "What is it you guys do under here anyways?" She stopped as she noticed the enormous chunk of armor missing from underneath the fuselage. "Yup. That's what I'm doing down here. It is really amazing the punishment these things can take and keep on flying," Cal remarked. "Wow... It's a lot different when you see this kind of damage up close. It really makes me realize how different our jobs really are. I sit in the safety of the bridge at my station and you and all the other pilots out here are constantly being shot at. I really don't think I could handle it, to be honest."

Cal smiled at her remarks. She really did understand that it takes a certain kind of person- albeit, a slightly _crazy_ person, to be an effective combat pilot. "You may feel safe onboard a capital ship, but you could just as easily be annihilated by a well-placed shot from another ship. It's just our job to make sure that there is as little of a chance of that happening as possible," he replied. Jen was then reminded of the reason she had come to the hangar.

"I saw you out there busting your ass to keep us safe, but... I know you had other reasons," Jen remarked. "What reasons are those?" Cal inquired. He wanted to know what she really was thinking, rather than open his mouth, guess, be wrong about it, and look like a fool. "I saw you looking at me on the bridge. You still care about me, don't you?" Cal knew he had been found out and for some reason, he couldn't keep himself from blushing a little bit. "You saw me, huh?" He approached her, put both of his hands on her shoulder, and kept her at arm's length. "Let me tell you something about us pilots. We may simply love flying and fighting, but we always need a little more than just that to push us even further. You once told me that you do what you do because you want to protect what's important to you. Your family, your friends, the colony... Well, we have the same desires. When I was out there defending the Quarter, I wasn't thinking about whether or not I was going to survive, I was thinking about who really needs my protection. ...and at that time, it was you!"

Jen was dumbfounded by his words. "But I thought that you weren't interested in me. That's why you didn't ever want to be around me." Cal could almost see her response coming from a mile away. Shaking his head, he responded, "You can be friends with someone and still want to protect them as if they were extremely important to you. Ever since we met on Aimo, I have cared about your well-being. I may seem detached at times, but that doesn't mean that I don't care for you. Sometimes, I just have things going on that require my attention, but you will always be on my mind in some way or another."

Jen couldn't fight the urge to give him a big hug and she quickly succumbed. "Well, thank you for all that you do. I'm glad you made it back home alive," she said as she embraced him in her arms. Cal returned the hug and pulled away after a moment, making sure it was just enough to qualify as a "friend hug". "You're very welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I could really use a shower," he said as he lifted his arm to pretend like he was smelling his body odor through his flightsuit. Being as mischievous as usual, Jen had to stop herself from making a slightly inappropriate comment concerning "Cal" and "a shower". "Cal!" she said to stop him from walking away. He turned slightly to look at her and she continued, "Let's do lunch today!" He thought about it for a second and nodded in response before he continued walking towards the locker rooms.


	34. Aftermath

A/N: Wow, it's been a busy last couple of weeks and I apologize for the delay in posting a new chapter here. I guess this is a good place to let you all know that this may become the case from time to time, from here on out. I started school a couple of weeks ago and I'm taking a 15-unit load. Plus, I started a new part-time job. That means that I have significantly less free time to work on my story here. As a matter of fact, I'm glad I have a 3-day weekend. I'll have plenty of time to catch up on all of the homework I've let pile up because of this. I'm pretty excited to be going back to school, after such a long hiatus on furthering my own education. That means that this story will take a back-burner role, behind school and work.

Don't fret, though! I will be gradually chipping away at the story and I don't plan on stopping until I finish it. Just as a warning, expect there to be quite a few more chapters after this. I kind of wondered if some readers would think that I was winding things down after that epic battle a couple of chapters ago. This is not the case, though. There's still the issue of what to do with Macross Galaxy. They are still quite a threat to our friends in the Frontier colony of Aimo, and to the rest of the sentient life in our galaxy. This is, after all, one of the major loose-ends they left open at the end of the Macross Frontier series, and I intend on tying it up one way, or another.

A couple of noteworthy-things to mention to you concerning this chapter... First, I sort-of changed my writing style midway through this chapter. At the behest of one of my friends, I started to structure the paragraphs a bit differently. I have begun to break up dialogue between characters by starting a new paragraph when someone else begins to speak. This should help you differentiate who is speaking a bit better than before. Plus, I am able to go into further detail on the emotions or actions of that character while I am going through the dialogue. It starts out a bit rocky at first, but I get better at it as I progressed through the chapters following this one. If it kinda bugs you, just give it some time. Once you start to read the next couple of chapters, it starts to smooth out. Second, I am trying to make a concerted effort to feature the original characters from the series much more than before. I had several scenes featuring them in previous chapters that I had to just leave out, because the story was not progressing fast enough for my tastes. While the main story does follow my O.C., I do want to keep the other characters in the loop as much as possible. Now, the story has gotten to the point where the other characters will be more involved in the main storyline. You'll start to see more branched storylines featuring the other characters from here on out. However, you'll see more from Cal than any other one character, since he is pretty much the main character of this story. You might have noticed that I already started this habit from the amount of time that I spent writing them in during the course of the battle. Hope you like the changes that are coming your way!

Okay, so before I delay you much more from your reading, I will remind you all that you can 'favorite' this story on your profile. If you do so, will e-mail you when I post a new chapter. That way, you don't have to keep coming back to check for updates. Enjoy! -(09/05/10)

* * *

Support craft continued to pick away at the twisted hulks and various charred pieces of wreckage littered all throughout the former battlefield. The ships in the Frontier fleet held positions in the middle of the sea of debris. Derelict flotsam routinely smashed against the solid hulls of the capital ships while the ships themselves served as bases of operation for all of the rescue crews working hard to find survivors of this enormous battle. Craft could be seen picking humanoid-shaped figures from the occasional wrecked fighter or ship from both Frontier and Galaxy fleets. Friendly Vajra drones and cruisers still littered the area, doing their part to keep the area secure until they decided that it was time to leave.

The Quarter's hangar was busily processing some of the wreckage that had already been reclaimed by the rescue crews and a large section of it had turned into a scrap pile. An occasional Work Destroid would pick out the best-preserved piece and bring it to a makeshift forge so it could be restored for use once more. Several industrial welders sprayed endless showers of sparks as they shaped and crafted the metal to their choosing. However, there were several empty spaces where Skull Squadron's VFs were stored when not in use. Their vacancy was indicative of the lost pilots in the squadron's roster.

Alto stood in front of two empty spaces, while his own VF was parked nearby in its storage space. Two of the pilots in his team didn't make it back home and he continued to replay the moment of their deaths in his mind over and over. It was as if he felt like punishing himself by reliving that horrible moment several times consecutively. MDE bombs are a fearsome and horrifying weapon of mass-destruction, effectively ensuring the deaths of anyone who happens to be caught nearby the detonation of one of the devices.

Just like before, the sight of death and suffering of others evoked an emotional response from Alto. Seeing the empty storage spaces and the realization of the loss of two of his pilots fueled the fire of his burning determination to protect the people who mean most to him. This wasn't the first time he had lost pilots who were under his command, though. Even though he didn't fly with them for very long, he still felt that Maruyama and Kakizaki didn't deserve to die several months ago. They weren't the best of pilots, but they were good people nonetheless.

He began to take notice of approaching footsteps, but didn't turn to see who was coming his way. Stopping just behind Alto, Ozma dispensed some of his invaluable advice to the up-and-coming team leader. "I know that posture. Don't punish yourself for their deaths; it leads to a long cycle of self-deprecation," he said as he firmly gripped Alto's shoulder. The young pilot slowly turned to his superior officer after quickly absorbing the words of wisdom. "It's hard not to. I'm reminded of the reason I chose to join SMS in the first place. It was to keep good people from coming under harm; to protect them." Ozma smirked as he responded, "You mean people like Ranka?"

Alto was slightly surprised at Ozma's answer. He quickly shed his stunned demeanor and agreed within himself that Ranka really was the original reason he had joined SMS the year before. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I just couldn't stand not being able to _do_ anything to help people and I realized that by joining up, I could finally make a difference." "How do you feel about your accomplishments to date? Do you feel like you've really accomplished something in becoming a pilot?" "Of course I have!" Alto replied.

Ozma smiled and retorted with the coup de grace meant to defeat Alto's inner doubts, "Then you've made the right decision. All of the pilots who fly under you and in the other squadrons? They all joined up for the same reasons as you did. Whether they shot down one bogey or one _thousand_ bogeys, they all made a difference by simply serving in the military. Remember their sacrifice and honor their commitment; don't waste your time beating yourself up over it."

Alto turned back to look at the empty storage spaces again and he nodded his head in agreement while he soaked in Ozma's words of wisdom. A question popped into his mind after just a moment, "What kind of losses did we suffer?" Ozma briefly sighed and answered the question. "I also lost one of my pilots out there today." Alto was actually surprised to hear the news, but he began to try to learn what it is that Ozma does to help cope with his losses. "Nene and Ensign Garrett both lost their birds, but they're going to be okay. One of Kanaria's pilots lost his bird too, but as for Kanaria herself... The Monster is probably totaled and she's on the medical frigate."

Alto was again surprised by the news. "Geez... We're not in very good shape right now, are we?" Ozma wanted to agree, but he was more of a glass-half-full kind of guy. "We'll be back to full strength soon enough. I think for the time being, we can manage to do our jobs while we're a little shorthanded, right?" "Yeah, I guess..." Ozma began to inch himself away, but he wanted to leave Alto with something to look forward to. "I need to get up to the command deck for an impromptu meeting, but come see me in my quarters later. I have been hiding some twelve-year-old scotch in my footlocker. I'll share a drink with you to honor their memory, okay?" Alto had never seen this kind of straightforwardness from Ozma. Perhaps it was a sign that he was finally accepting Alto as a respected pilot and he might even start to lighten up with him, when it comes to matters concerning Ranka. Alto smiled and nodded to confirm his interest to Ozma.

Disappearing as quickly as he came, Ozma had left in his wake just the right words to assuage Alto's lingering feelings of guilt. Like any good leader and role-model, he knows what to do and say to keep his chicklings walking on the right path. Alto has always realized how fortunate he is to have an effective squadron leader like Ozma. He continued to stare at the empty storage spaces and in his mind, thanked his pilots for their fine service and their ultimate sacrifice. An apprehensive smile crept across his face as he began to come to terms with his loss.

…

A hesitant Klan stopped outside of the door leading to the Captain's office on the command deck of the Eksidos. She quickly checked over her uniform to make sure that everything was in place, but stopped midway as her mind tried to remind her that she was worrying too much about her fate. She took a deep breath and put on her best look of determination, ready to take on whatever the Captain was going to throw at her. She stood straight up and gained a more confident posture before proceeding through the door.

To her surprise, Jormun was sitting in the Captain's chair in his office, busily tapping away at the terminal on the desk. She quickly began to resent seeing him in that chair; he seems to be everywhere she doesn't want him to be. "Where's the Captain?" she asked of Jormun. He quietly finished typing and put down the tablet from which he was reading. "We had to leave him behind to come and get you. He was staying in Laplamiz overnight after attending an officer's party in the city when you decided to take the prototype for a joyride. He wasn't all-too-happy when I had to contact him to notify him and he ordered me to take the ship into space to retrieve you."

The longer this conversation was going to continue in this direction, the worse it was sure to get. Klan quickly tried to change the mood a bit, "Captain Geraum must put a lot of trust in you; leaving his ship under your command while you take it off-world without him." Feeding Jormun's ego appeared to reap the desired results and he seemed to open up a bit, "I've served under him for several months now, but he's known me for most of my life. My family has had a strong military tradition and my uncle served with him for many years. Ever since I was a child, I have always wanted to follow in the family tradition."

Klan smiled, because she knew exactly how that felt. "The story of my life..." she said with a bit of a laugh. The two Zentrans had a bit of a connection, but Klan knew that she was only humoring him to lighten the mood a little bit. It didn't take very long before he finally remembered why they were having this meeting in the first place, though. He sighed and changed his demeanor back to something similar to when he was standing in the ship's hangar waiting for Klan to return with the Queadluun Rasa.

"Unfortunately, I wish we could be having this conversation under better circumstances. I'm sure you already know that you're in quite a bit of hot water already, and you've put me in a really difficult situation." Here it comes... Klan had been expecting a verdict ever since the Eksidos defolded into the battlefield. "Since the Captain isn't here to make a final decision, procedure dictates that I simply confine you to your quarters for now. We'll be returning to Aimo shortly and I'm sure he'll want to speak with you directly over this matter," Jormun declared.

He was noticeably weighted with some form of guilt over having to make such a decision. Klan could sense that something was causing him to act with such apprehension. She was expecting a complete ass-chewing, but instead, she's just getting sent to her room. Instead of continuing the conversation, she decided to quit while she was ahead. "Understood. Is there anything else?" "No, Commander. Dismissed." Just as he responded, two armed soldiers entered the room and stood to the side of the door, as if they were waiting for Klan to walk past.

She briefly glanced at them before looking back at Jormun. He didn't seem to want to make eye-contact with her. "Nothing personal, Commander. I just want to make sure you get to your quarters without taking any detours," he said as he picked up his tablet again and started to read the text displayed on its screen. Klan quietly scoffed and turned to walk out of the office. While the two guards began to follow her, she smirked while she thought to herself a bit. "_Now, that's more like it_." If it's one thing she hates, it's being treated with kid gloves.

…

The command staff of the Quarter casually chatted amongst themselves as they waited for the final member of their meeting to arrive. Surely, they all had a lot to talk about concerning the events of the past couple of hours. Captain Wilder quietly sat at his desk and looked on until the door opened and Ozma rushed in with some paperwork tucked under his arm. In his haste, he dropped a couple of pages and knelt down to pick them up. "Sorry to make you all wait. The aerospace traffic around the Quarter was packed and it took me awhile just to get back on the ship."

Captain Wilder smiled before he answered, "It's okay, Ozma. We've all had a lot on our plates, for obvious reasons. Please, have a seat." Everyone quickly stopped talking to each other and took a seat near the Captain's desk. He took a deep breath before officially beginning the meeting. "Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say that I am very happy that _all_ of you are able to make this meeting. Needless to say, it could have easily been a different story, had it not been for this fleet's incredible performance under pressure. Let's not forget our Vajra friends out there, too."

Everyone nodded and verbally agreed with each other over his opening statements. Captain Wilder then turned towards Monica to begin speaking again, "Monica, I'd like to start things out with you. You were on duty at the time that we came under attack. I expressed disapproval over your decision to hastily fire the Macross Cannon without authorization. Now's a better time to elaborate as to why you chose to overstep your bounds." He was already putting Monica on the spot in front of the rest of the command staff and it appeared to be a very cruel thing to do. However, his intentions were merely to test her mettle and see how she does in explaining her decision-making process.

After nervously clearing her throat, Monica answered the question, "Well, we studied an abnormal radar reading that laid just outside of the fleet's extremities. After spending some time analyzing the situation, I realized where I had seen those readings before. When we began our assault on the Vajra homeworld many months ago, we discovered that the enormous image of Ranka was merely a facade; a hologram. It was the same readings as then, except the hologram was of an asteroid and it concealed an Altair-class carrier. I knew that this couldn't be a good thing, so I ordered the ship into firing position and to have the Macross Cannon charged and ready to fire once you made it to the bridge. However, it appeared that when they detected our hostile maneuver, they initiated the ambush that they had been planning. Once I saw that there was a hostile fleet defolding all around us, I decided to open fire while we had the chance. The preemptive strike kept the carrier from being able to launch its complement of fighters."

Everyone attentively listened to her words and Captain Wilder nodded his head while he processed the situation in his mind. "Tell me, what made you override the protocol? Not having authorization to fire didn't stop you from making such a huge decision," Wilder asked. Monica smiled as she answered, "I was taught that sometimes, you have to make decisions based on the information that's available to you. Sometimes, waiting for the chain of command to make a decision could be devastating. In this case, I saw the opportunity to strike first and I took it." She heavily sighed in relief. Wilder continued to nod and wore a slight smirk on his face; he remembered that conversation he had with her in the past.

"All I can say is that you'll be a definite shoo-in when you get to your round-table interviews at NUNS HQ," the Captain confidently stated. Again, everyone in the room agreed with his statement and a round congratulatory glances bounced off of Monica. She sheepishly blushed, but did her best to maintain a strong composure. Wilder had one more thing to add, however, "Just make sure that you don't get overconfident. You took a major risk out there, but it was the correct decision. Good job!"

The meeting quickly moved on to the next subject. "Well, despite our numerous losses, we've been fortunate enough to find many survivors from the wrecked ships and fighters. We've even pulled some Galaxy soldiers from their ships and are already interrogating them to see what kind of information they will divulge to us." Commander Choi had to interject, "Interrogate them? They're all drones. They won't be easily cracked." Wilder answered her concern before moving on, "They may be drones, but they also have a lot of implants in their bodies. Their minds are being partially controlled through those implants and that means that we can actually 'hack' their minds like a computer. The higher-ranked officers retain some of their autonomy, but that also means that they can be persuaded to talk through more traditional means. The details of the interrogations are to be kept classified, so I don't want to hear about any leaks, is that clear?" His command staff nodded in acknowledgment. "We should be getting the first reports from the interrogations very soon, but those results will be disseminated to you all on a need-to-know basis."

"Aside from the obvious task of keeping this area secure, rescuing personnel, and salvaging materials from the shipwrecks, we also need to compile a report to send to NUNS Command on Aimo. I already spoke with Fleet Admiral Perry and several of his immediate subordinates and they are greatly anticipating our report. It looks like they're ready to put and end to the Galaxy threat, no matter what it takes," the Captain continued. He turned his chair to the side and reclined a bit before moving on with the conversation, "I'd like to submit the report as soon as possible, so that's why I called this meeting so quickly after the battle's end. I trust you all brought your completed reports with you?"

Nobody seemed to fidget uncomfortably in their chairs; an indication that everyone had come prepared. "Good. I have to say that I appreciate the speed and efficiency with which you all have been working. If we keep this up, we'll be finished with this campaign more quickly than we had originally thought. Let me have those reports," he said as he waved his hand inward towards his desk, "Does anyone have any questions about anything?" Everyone began to place their reports on his desk.

Commander Ortiz probably asked the one question that was burning a hole in everyone's minds, "Sir, do we have any idea how the hell Leon Mishima managed to find himself amongst Galaxy forces? Wasn't he supposed to be incarcerated on Aimo, awaiting the trial for his crimes?" Captain Wilder had wondered the same thing before his conversations with NUNS command. He slightly lowered his head as he answered, "The answer to that question is classified." Everyone in the room felt a little let down that they wouldn't get an answer. However, the Captain wasn't done with his answer, "He was abducted from captivity shortly after we first landed on Aimo. He's been missing for the past few months, but the military has decided to cover up his absence. It seemed that we had some Galaxy operatives entrenched in some of our security forces. If the population were to find out about this, it wouldn't look good for the military. I think it goes without saying that this information does **not** leave this room, got it?" Another round of acknowledgments floated towards him.

Captain Wilder then stood up from his chair, confident that there were no more issues to tackle at the time. "If there's nothing else to discuss, let's get to work. Dismissed." The officers stood at attention and saluted before leaving the room, single-file. The last officer to leave was Ozma and he was stopped just as he reached the door. "Ozma," Wilder said, "Just another moment of your time." He turned around and allowed the door to close behind him so the two would be left in private for whatever it is the Captain had to say.

"I know you're under a lot of pressure right now. I understand that you lost some pilots out there today, and I'm sorry to hear about your losses. I wish I could say that we all share your pain, but you and I both know that it's much more significant for you," Captain Wilder said with a heavy heart. Being a former pilot and a squadron leader at one time in his career, he has experienced everything that Ozma has had to go through, in one form or another. "You realize that I am going to need you and your pilots more than ever at this point, right?"

Instead of keeping the conversation in such a depressing state, Ozma smiled and answered the Captain's concerns, "We're more determined than ever to fulfill our duties. I've already taken the liberty of including my temporary changes to the squadron's roster in my report. All I need from you is the patrol chart and we'll be filling in each shift, without fail. You will also note in my report that I have presented my choice for squadron XO. I already spoke with him and his commanding officer just before this meeting, so I know that he survived the battle."

This was good news for Captain Wilder. It appeared that the conversation that they had the day before was what Ozma needed to get his sense of ambition back on track. He smiled in satisfaction as he answered, "I'm glad to hear it. I know I can always depend on you to keep this ship and the fleet safe. Good luck out there!" Again, Ozma saluted out of respect, but Captain Wilder preferred a handshake and placed his hand out over the desk between the two officers. Ozma laughed as he returned the handshake and left the office.

…

Elsewhere in the fleet, the medical frigate suddenly found itself overburdened with incoming patients, due to the recent battle. However, the medical facilities had instituted a "first-come, first-serve" policy; at the same time, ranking the patients through the standard triage technique. The pre-staging areas were surprisingly organized and calm, though.

In one of the rooms, Kanaria laid in her bed while she waited for a doctor to come by and release her. She was accompanied by an otherwise cheery group of pilots: all three of the other members of her Rabbit Team. They all chatted about the battle, in an effort to shed a more positive light on the otherwise grim results of the battle. Just as they were starting to become impatient in waiting for a doctor, a familiar figure appeared from the other side of the privacy curtain.

"So, this is where you guys have been hiding..." Ozma said to the pilots. He wore a friendly smile, which masked his strong concern for Kanaria's well-being. Everyone, except Kanaria, got up to salute their squadron commander; she saluted while comfortably remaining in her bed. "How're you holding up?" he asked of her. She sighed as the smile slowly left her face. "Well, I guess I'm doing fine, but..." she trailed off. Already having quite a bit of a rapport with each other, Ozma could tell that she wanted to speak with him in private over something that's chewing away at her mind. He turned to the other pilots to ask them a favor, "Guys, can you wait outside? There's something that we need to talk about alone." They quickly agreed and bid their team leader a goodbye before leaving her bedside.

After cheerfully watching them leave, Ozma and Kanaria looked at each other with a greater sense of seriousness. Kanaria started the conversation before Ozma could even ask her to speak her mind, "Ozma, I've been doing a lot of serious thinking since I was brought here earlier. That feeling that I had when I truly thought I was going to die out there... I don't know if I ever want to experience that again."

It was easy for Ozma to see where this conversation was leading. A little bit of frustration found its way into Ozma's voice as he answered, "Well, Kanaria, we all know that things like this will happen at some point in our careers. We were aware of the risks when we joined up, so I'm kind of curious as to why this was so unexpected for you." He put his hand on the bed in a comforting gesture.

"I don't know what it was, but I was scared out of my mind. I don't think I had ever come so close to dying in combat before. There have been many times when I was in a real bad scrape and simply bit my lip as I charged through the experience, but this one was far more significant," she continued. Kanaria looked down at the covers over her legs and quickly tried to re-imagine the feeling she had out on the battlefield. She shook her head and turned back to Ozma to try and convey the description to him. "I can't- I just don't want to think about it too much right now." She reached over and put her hand on top of his, which was still on the bed next to her. "Ozma, I am beginning to wonder if I can continue serving as a pilot. If this is how I am going to handle near-death experiences, then I won't be able to function without remorse while in the heat of a firefight. I keep thinking about my husband and son and it hurts me so much to imagine how they'd take it if I were to suddenly be killed in combat. It's really a feeling that's tough to overcome."

Ozma tried to relate by imagining how Cathy and Ranka would react if he were to die, but he knew that they were strong enough to be able to move on in life without him. If anything, they'd be thankful for his sacrifice; in knowing that everything that he's done in his life has really amounted to so much. Somehow, though, he could feel an inkling of that fear; probably the same fear that Kanaria was trying to describe to him. "Look, I can only imagine whatever it is that you're going through and I'm not going to try to blow sunshine up your ass. You do what you do because you want to give the best possible future to your son. Nobody's going to fault you for putting your family's safety and security before everything else, but I want you to seriously consider what it is that you're proposing. Perhaps the fear will pass; but if it doesn't, there _are_ alternatives to simply quitting. You may seriously undervalue your worth in this squadron, on this ship, in the NUNS, and as a member of our colony."

Ozma's kind words of appreciation were too much for Kanaria to not smile when she answered him. "I know, Ozma... I know. Thank you for coming to see me and listening to what I have to say with an open mind. Over the last few years, I've watched you turn into a textbook example of how a squadron leader _should_ be." After seeing Ozma's reaction to her words, she decided to talk about other important matters. "What's the word on the Monster? Is it as bad as I thought?"

A sigh preceded Ozma's answer, "Initial reports were that it is unsalvageable. I'll get a more detailed breakdown of the situation probably when I get back to the ship."

Kanaria looked back down at the covers on the bed again. A slight hint of disappointment shrouded her demeanor. "Damn. It looks like we'll have to get our hands on another one and that means that there's going to be a lot of work that needs to be done to customize it to my liking. What about my pilots? If I am not going to be flying anytime soon, what's to become of them?"

"Oh, I'll find a way to keep them busy and out of trouble. I'm going to take them back with me when I leave here, so I guess you can say goodbye to them in a bit," Ozma said with a smirk. In reality, he really needed them back in ready to fly again as quickly as possible. It looks like his squadron is going to be even more short on pilots, upon finding out about Kanaria's concerns over her own life and future performance.

Ozma didn't know about Kanaria's upcoming medical status changes, though. "Well, I'll probably be back on the ship very soon. I'm just waiting for a doctor to release me, since they are probably very short on beds and need all the space they can get," she replied.

Following a slight laugh, Ozma remembered something that he thought that she should know. "Oh yeah, that reminds me. I hope you don't mind, but they commandeered the Quarter's infirmary to service some low-priority injuries. They have a couple of doctors keeping an eye on the patients there, so things should remain under control."

The situation, while grim, was still a little humorous to Kanaria as well. "Alright, but tell them if I find anything out of place in my office, there will be hell to pay!" she said while shaking her fist at Ozma. It was as if she was using him as a conduit to convey her charged words towards those doctors who were probably enjoying her workspace as they spoke.

Ozma got up from the chair he was sitting in to head back to his ship. There was still a lot of work to be done and while he was not able to get any sleep the night before, he hoped that there would be time to rest as soon as all of the loose ends were tied up. "Alright, well... I've got to get back and I'm taking your chicklings with me. I guess I'll see you on the Quarter soon enough, right?" Kanaria nodded. Ozma looked back into her eyes with concern on his face, "If you think of anything you need to talk about, don't hesitate to give me a ring. I'm always an earshot away; you know that."

He left her alone in peace. Finally, she can get back to thinking about things the way they are. Although she appreciated her pilots keeping her company and showing concern for her well-being by visiting, she much preferred to be alone with her thoughts. It was clear that this was going to be a life-changing decision and she needed to make sure all of her ducks were in a row before setting out in whatever direction it is that she decides to go.

Ozma made sure he wrangled in her pilots to make sure they got back to their ship without distraction. "Come on, guys. I need you back on the ship and _she_ needs to be left alone for awhile." The chicklings followed their brood leader down the hall, but they still made plenty of "peeps" and "tweets" along the way.

"Commander, are we going to be able to get back out in the shit without our team leader? She's going to be out for at least a while, right?" one of the pilots asked. At least they were looking forward to getting back on duty and flying once again.

Ozma scoffed at their zeal. "Don't you guys worry. I'll have you out there mixing it up again real soon. I need as many of you to be combat-ready in the shortest time possible."

Although they would much prefer to be on duty alongside their respected and admired team leader, they were happy to be looking forward to continuing their service without much of an interruption in their availability. The chicklings continued to chatter with each other while they followed Ozma to the transport docking areas on the ship.

While riding the transport to the Quarter, Ozma became lost in his thoughts. He certainly has a lot of decisions to make in the near future; but for the time being, he will have to manage with what he has in order to do his job.

…

After several hours had passed, Captain Wilder was _still_ in his office working on his console. Although when many soldiers join the military and have dreams of becoming the captain of their own ship, they seldom grasp the enormous amount of work that must be done in such an assignment. Positions of command may have a sleek, glossy veneer of prestige and glory, but the amount of responsibility the rank carries is rarely acknowledged at the beginnings of a soldier's career.

Lam's voice began to play through the intercom system, "Captain, you have a call from NUNS Command on a secure line. Should I put it through to your office?"

He acknowledged her question and waited for the computer to display the call on his monitor. A progress bar appeared on the screen to track the completion of the signal's decryption. Once the bar filled up all the way, the large screen on the wall displayed an initially-grainy video feed, with several blurry artifacts at various places. After a couple of seconds, the picture cleared up and Captain Wilder stood from his chair to salute Fleet Admiral Perry, whose image was now being displayed.

"It's good to see you again, Captain," Admiral Perry greeted with a salute. After waiting for Captain Wilder to sit back down again, he continued to speak, "We've already gone over the bulk of your report and we're fairly satisfied with what we found in there. However, we did have a couple of questions that we want to go over with you."

"Fire away, Admiral," Captain Wilder said with a smirk. He sat in his chair with a confident posture while he awaited the inevitable inquisition.

Fleet Admiral Perry looked to the side at his console to read some of his notes to Captain Wilder. "You mentioned in your report that the Vajra that entered the battle late had done so to help you. It is your speculation that they were influenced by the song of Ranka Lee and Sheryl Nome. You also mentioned that the Galaxy-controlled Vajra were not affected by their song. Do you have any hard evidence of the difference in their behavior?"

"Yes, Sir. Once we detected their song on the fold spectrum, we did not notice any difference in the Vajra attack patterns. All throughout this campaign, we've recovered Vajra corpses that contain various cybernetic implants. It's even been witnessed by some of my pilots that they are being implanted while in their larva stages. Usually, a single VF-27 unit infiltrates the nest and brings with it the equipment for the procedures. We noticed that only _some_ of the nests exhibited extremely hostile behavior, while the rest were quite docile. It is our assumption that those docile nests had not yet been infiltrated and altered by Galaxy agents, therefore, we did not destroy them."

Admiral Perry nodded to Captain Wilder's explanation. "And what do you think of the Vajra who appeared to help you during the battle?"

"Well, those Vajra were resonating the same fold wavelengths that we detected from the songs of Sheryl and Ranka. The best way that we can describe it is that they were... *ahem* 'singing' the song, in order to tell us that they were here to help. I know they may _seem_ like mindless drones, but I am actually beginning to see a benevolent intelligence in them. I think that if we can learn to communicate with them on a more significant level, they can become powerful allies," Wilder confidently stated.

"So, it appears that the implanted Vajra do not respond to song, is this correct?" Perry asked. Wilder silently nodded in agreement. Admiral Perry sighed as he quickly mulled over a couple of thoughts in his mind. "I hate to admit it, but you may be right about the necessity to open up further relations with the Vajra. There is probably an enormous amount of things that we can learn from them, especially when it comes to new technologies. I'll discuss that in more detail with the Defense Council, though."

Perry reached over to his console and hit a single button to forward his notes on his screen. "The other thing we need to discuss is the reappearance of Grace O'Connor. Now, 'reappearance' is a term we are loosely using, because it's been theorized by some of our science officers that she never was truly destroyed. They tell us that she probably has found a way to um... 'digitize' her consciousness, thereby granting her some form of immortality. Obviously, if this is true, it means several things. On a positive side, it represents a significant advance in both computer technology and metaphysical biology. It may be worth the effort to somehow obtain this knowledge for our own gain, but that's for the politicians to decide. On the negative side, it means that the Galaxy threat will be difficult to overcome. We must first discover the nature of her 'existence' and then formulate a way to neutralize her. As long as she exists in some form, she will remain a threat to us and to all sentient life in the galaxy."

Captain Wilder attentively listened to his superior's words, but he felt like it was a good time to interject. "Am I correct in assuming that you may desire to 'capture' her, instead of outright destroying her?"

Shaking his head, Perry responded, "The thought has crossed my mind, but I don't know if we can spare the manpower for it. It would definitely lead to more casualties than if we went in with the intention of destroying everything. It pains me to say this, but we must consider the entire Galaxy fleet as a dangerous entity. Therefore, we should operate with the intention of eliminating them completely. At least, that's my take on things. Ultimately, it's the President's decision, so it will depend on him and his advisory committee."

Captain Wilder was inclined to agree with Admiral Perry, but there was something in his mind that he couldn't shake. He looked downwards as he decided to add a little bit of his own flavor to the conversation, "I can't help but wonder if we're missing something here... We only know of Galaxy's current status based on their military actions. What about its people? The citizens might be innocent, either because they don't know of what's going on, or they're unable to speak out against it."

"Yeah, we are considering the possibilities there. I will explore all of our options once the interrogations have been completed and the reports are submitted to NUNS Command. I hope to have some answers by this time tomorrow," Admiral Perry said as he started to wrap up the conversation. "Captain, I'm sorry to hear about the fleet's losses, but you and your men performed admirably under the circumstances. I hope they all know how proud we are of everyone out there. We'll be sending some help your way real soon, so sit tight." Captain Wilder stood up from his chair to salute, but Perry added one more comment. "You did real good, Jeffrey. Real good..."

Admiral Perry's use of Captain Wilder's first name in that sentence really added another level of sincerity to his words. The Captain returned the Admiral's words with a proud smile, "Thank you, Sir." With that, the screen blanked out, terminating their connection, and returning the office to the calm and relaxed atmosphere it had been before their conversation. Now, all that was left was to wait for an answer from NUNS Command about the next step in the campaign.


	35. Reassignment

A/N: Has it _really_ been almost four weeks since my last posting? Well, it's been pretty hectic, to say the least. I'm currently in the middle of Chapter 39, but school and work keep getting in the way. Things should calm down a bit after this week, so I hope to get a lot of writing done this weekend.

I've actually been doing a bit of a retrospective on my writing these past few months and I am starting to get to the point where when I read my earlier work, I consider it to be substandard. The whole debacle with the tense inconsistency early on still makes me facepalm. I want to fix it, but I just don't have the time to do that _and_ work on continuing the story at a barely-decent pace. However, I am glad I decided to undertake this project. I realized that I have improved my writing skills several-fold and it's really coming in handy in school right now. I am currently taking an English composition class and my teacher has marveled at some of my work already. Several of my other classes have required short-answer and essay answers to test questions and my writing experience has given me the ability to present a well-structured, verbose, and thorough answer in each case. Believe it or not, I actually _hated_ writing, but I always knew I was good at it. I remember when I was in the 7th grade, I failed the writing portion of what was called the "TAAS" test (I live in Texas), and had to take remedial writing throughout the 8th grade. Flash forward to my senior year in high school and I wrote my senior English term paper in two hours. It was a 6-page report with which I had done about 5 hours of research, and I got a 98 on it. Ever since then, I've known that I have a lot of potential as a writer, but I just simply hated it. I did this story because I had a story of my own to tell and to try and tie up some of the loose ends that left me begging for more at the end of the MacF series. I'm glad I did it, even though it's taken up so much of my free time. I can quickly admit that this story has gotten _much_ longer than I had originally planned, but I am still very happy with the overall result. There's still plenty more to go before I can finally lean back in my chair, put my hands behind my head, and say "It's done."

Now we have the MacF movie 1 coming out on DVD/BD in Japan on October 7th. I would expect a few days to pass before the first fansubs start to show up on the internet. I'm dying to see what kind of story they wrote to retell the series. Perhaps seeing the movie will give me a little more drive to complete my story at a faster pace. I've already forged one upcoming scene for my story here, based on some of the clips of the movie that I've seen.

Alright, enough of my incessant babbling. I'll let you all get to reading Chapter 35, here. Get ready for a massive change of scenery! You'll see what I mean when you get done reading this chapter. -(09/28/10)

* * *

Ozma continued to pound away at his keyboard, despite fighting a serious bout of fatigue from lack of sleep and the stresses of the recent combat in which he had taken part. He strained to focus his sight on the computer terminal on his desk and frequently squinted or rubbed his eyes to soothe the discomfort of his exhaustion. Fortunately, his final order of business arrived right on time.

The door to his office opened and Cal walked in wearing his flightsuit and carrying his helmet under his arm. "You wanted to see me about my assignment, Sir?" he asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice. Obviously, he was completely in the dark about what he was going to be doing since every pilot in his team was either no longer serving on the ship or was out of commission for at least a little while.

Ozma quickly finished his work and got up to respond to Cal's inquiry. "I'm sure you're wondering what kind of work I'm going to have you do. As the only currently active member of your team, it goes without saying that your range of duties would be strictly limited if I was to send you out on your own." Ozma stopped talking to look out the window of his office and into the hangar. The activity out there was still buzzing and it served as a reminder as to the somewhat-crippled status of his squadron.

"Um, Sir?" Cal unintentionally hurried his squadron commander to spill the beans. By the time he realized that he was being slightly curt, it was too late to stop himself from saying anything.

Fortunately, Ozma didn't think negatively of Cal's zeal to get back on duty. He turned around and continued with his answer, "I'm sure you've heard about the squadron's losses by now. We also have several pilots who are unable to serve, including your teammates on Pixie Team. Right now, I need you to fill a much larger role than you are used to."

"I'm ready for whatever it is, Sir."

Following a quick smile, Ozma finished his request. "I need you to keep an eye on Rabbit Team until Kanaria gets back on duty. You'll be serving as the interim team leader for now, so here's your assignment for today," he said as he handed Cal a tablet containing the orders for Rabbit Team.

Even though Cal might have suspected this to be the reason that Ozma had summoned him, he was still a bit surprised and even felt his ego inflating a bit. He gladly accepted the tablet from Ozma and saluted, "You can count on me, Sir!"

A quick salute in return and Ozma dismissed Cal. Surely, he had nothing but sleep on his mind, now that he had tied up all of the necessary loose ends for now. After he watched Cal leave the office and head towards his RVF in the hangar, Ozma quickly gathered up a few of his personal belongings from the office and headed towards the living areas of the ship.

…

While the bridge crew busily toiled at their stations nearby, Captain Wilder stood next to his chair and looked out of the side of the bridge. He kept his hands folded behind his back as he seemed to be counting the number of stars that dotted the black tapestry of space. Breaking his concentration, Lam announced an incoming message.

"Captain, you have a message coming in from the Eksidos," she reported.

Captain Wilder turned around to acknowledge her. "Put it up on the main monitor, please." A moment passed before Jormun's image appeared on-screen.

Several Zentraedi soldiers worked behind him on the bridge while he reported to the Fleet Captain. "Captain Wilder, I am sorry to inform you that we must be returning to Aimo now. As soon as the last of my support craft check in at the hangar, we'll be entering fold space."

Wilder smiled at the professionalism that Jormun uses when speaking to a superior officer. "Your help is greatly appreciated, Commander. I do have one thing to ask of you before you go. I have a message for you to deliver to your captain when you return. Its contents are for his eyes only, so if you can just do me that favor, I'd be very grateful," he said as he punched a couple of keys on his console to transmit the message.

Jormun looked to the side of the screen towards the terminal at his side; its chime informed him of the successful receipt of the message. "I would be honored to do you that favor, Sir. Please, let me know if there's anything else we can do to help."

Captain Wilder shook his head in response. "You saved our asses out here. You and your crew have done more than enough of a favor to us. Please send our regards to your captain and to the rest of your soldiers." Wilder paused for a moment, nearly turning away to cut the communications line. "Oh, and Commander?" Jormun perked up to listen to Wilder again. "Your formality is impeccable. Although I can appreciate and respect your approach in communicating with other officers, you can always take a more casual demeanor with me. You'll find that it's much easier to forge more personal relationships with your peers if you speak with them on a more nonchalant basis."

Jormun was a little surprised at Captain Wilder's suggestion, but it was unbecoming of him to refer to his superiors in such a lackadaisical way. "Thank you, Captain. I might try that sometime," he said. In his mind, he knew that he was just giving lip service, but he had to maintain a respectful composure while responding to the request of a superior officer. With a quick salute, Jormun cut the comm line and prepared to order his ship to leave the area.

…

A small group of fighters led by an RVF-25 casually passed between two capital ships in the fleet's formation. Cal generally remained quiet while his wingmates carried on with their usual chatter. It either appears that they're taking advantage of the fact that Kanaria is not there to keep them in line, or she simply allows them to chatter with each other while on duty.

Just as the group began to approach the Eksidos's position, the Quiltra-Quelamitz class capital ship accelerated forward and folded into hyperspace. Cal was somewhat shocked at their abrupt departure, but he was more upset over the fact that the ship carried away one person who held significant importance in his life. She had come and gone that quickly, and didn't even bother to try and contact him over the last few hours since the battle had ended. The whole situation developed into a bit of an annoyance to Cal.

The pilots of Rabbit Team continued with their inane chatter. "Oh no... There goes the Eksidos! Whatever will we do?" one pilot sarcastically remarked. "Bah, nuts to them. Those Zentrans just want to sit around and do nothing on Aimo while we're out here doing all of the dirty work," another pilot replied. "Hey, it just leaves us with more action. We don't need 'em!" the third pilot said.

All of a sudden, the incessant babbling became more than Cal could handle. After hearing their slightly-disrespectful words about the Eksidos and its crew, Cal gritted his teeth and grimaced while he tried not to blow up over the entire situation. "Don't you guys ever shut up?" he finally barked.

The talking suddenly stopped and all three pilots turned their mischief towards Cal. "Whoa! He finally speaks out! What, you didn't like us bad-mouthing the Eksidos?" Cal didn't answer their question, he simply waited for them to say something else to piss him off. "Wait, wait, wait... Isn't that the ship that Commander Klang transferred to? Oh, that's what it is, isn't it, Lieutenant? I heard from the rumor mill that you have a thing for her. So, is it true? What's up with you two? We saw you flying alongside her during the battle. You can tell us, we won't gossip about it. We promise!"

Before answering, Cal had to fight off the urge to vehemently deny the truth. He knew that it would give away more than he wanted to make known. "Based on your ability to not shut the hell up, I wouldn't trust you guys with even the most insignificant secrets. Besides, you guys know how much she and I constantly butt heads with each other. What would make you think that such a preposterous rumor could really be true?"

"Hey, we know that your roommate and Lieutenant Rora are an item. It's not so far-fetched of a concept... We're pretty sure that you both have a thing for Meltrans. All you have to do is just say it!" one pilot answered. Another one had to throw in his two cents, "I don't know, Wagner... if I had the chance, I'd be all over Commander Klang in a heartbeat. She's kind of cute in her miclone form, but when she's in her Meltran form, she can do anything she wants to me!" All three of the pilots clamored with each other in agreement, laughing at their own comments on the subject at hand.

However, Cal didn't like what was being said and almost felt a sense of possession when it came to talking about Klan like that. "Put a sock in it, pilot!" he exclaimed. Immediately, he knew that it was a huge tell and the pilots of Rabbit Team immediately took advantage of his reaction.

"Ah! See? He _does_ have a thing for her! You see how he gets jealous when we talk about her?" one of the pilots declared. The other two pilots confidently nodded in agreement. "Don't get so pissed off, Wagner. I only said that just to see how you'd react. I think we got our answer, even if you didn't want to tell us!" A couple of chuckles could be heard on the comm line after that sentence.

Cal had to deal with a patchwork of emotion in that very instant. He was already a bit pissed that Klan didn't bother to contact him before the ship left, then the embarrassment of their inquisition over his feelings for her, and now his jealousy-fueled anger over their comments about her. He finally managed to put away his uncontrollable urge to react over their words and took a deep breath to calm himself down. "You guys have no idea what the hell you're talking about. I just respect her, that's all. She's one of the best pilots in the fleet and she was my commanding officer before she transferred. I just don't like it when people talk about her, or any other Zentraedi soldier, like that. We Humans may be somewhat different than they are, but they deserve our respect and admiration for all that they do. She's saved my life on several occasions and I owe her a debt of gratitude for it."

Silence fell over the cockpit for a couple of moments before one of the pilots finally spoke again, "Whatever you say, Lieutenant. You can't hide the truth forever, you know..."

Cal acknowledged within himself of the accuracy of the pilot's statement. There will come a time when all truths will be revealed to everyone. However, he chose to focus his concentration on what could possibly be going through Klan's mind. After such a glorious reunion, she abruptly left him on the battlefield. Her mothership remained in the fleet for several hours after the battle was over, but she never made any effort to contact him. He couldn't help but feel a little angry and frustrated over such a hasty departure and the lack of any kind of follow-up from her.

…

After having caught a few hours' worth of sleep, Ozma was accompanied by an officer from another ship as he gave a bit of a tour of the Quarter's hangar area. "...and of course, this is the pilot's and hangar crew's locker room," he said. The air was warm and humid from the showers running on the other side of the wall next to where they stood. The locker room buzzed with activity, since an entire shift of soldiers had just finished their duties. Several pilots and crew were dressing for their upcoming on-duty shift, while the rest were cleaning up for their off-duty time. Cal and the pilots of Rabbit Team were among those who were getting cleaned up after completing their shift.

Ozma observed his crew scampering around in the locker room for a few moments before he let forth a sharp whistle. "Alright, everyone! Listen up!" He waited for a moment for everyone to stop what they were doing and to pay attention to him while he made an announcement. The showers in the next room turned off and a handful of pilots appeared in the doorway, with their towels wrapped around their waists. "I want to introduce you to someone. This is Lieutenant Commander Les Thompson and he will be our new squadron XO. He has served with distinction in the NUNS as a member of the elite Diamond Force unit, and he came highly recommended by his squadron leader, Commander Machida. Salute!" he barked.

Everyone in the room stood at attention and saluted their new squadron second-in-command. Commander Thompson returned the salute and happily greeted his new crew. However, Ozma wasn't quite done with his set of errands. He noticed Cal standing to his left, almost ready to leave the locker room. Cal had already finished changing into his uniform and he had his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Wagner!" Ozma barked.

Cal stood at attention again, "Yessir?"

Ozma casually walked over and started to dust something off of Cal's shoulders. "Your rank insignia seems to be losing its sheen and is unbecoming of a pilot of your rank," Ozma said as he unfastened the insignias and removed them. He then put them in his pocket and then pulled out a small box from the same pocket. "Fortunately, I have a new set for you right here," Ozma continued. He opened the box and pulled out the new insignias and showed them to Cal before reaching over to put them on his uniform.

To Cal's surprise, the insignia was that of a first lieutenant. He realized what Ozma was getting at and began to beam with excitement.

"Wagner, you have consistently shown your aptitude and skill as a top-echelon pilot and leader both in and out of combat. Your contributions and potential have been duly noted on several occasions by your superiors. You have demonstrated your ability to make good decisions in combat, and to be able to keep your cool under extreme pressure. Because you already exhibit the qualities of this rank, I have decided that there is no need for you to have to test for your promotion. Therefore, I hereby bestow upon you the rank of First Lieutenant. Congratulations!" Ozma finished speaking just as he finished fastening the rank insignias onto Cal's uniform. He then stood back and saluted Cal.

Cal was ecstatic as he returned the salute. Even Commander Thompson showed respect by saluting as well. Cal quickly noticed this and turned to salute the new squadron XO once more. The pilots and crew in the locker room began to whoop and whistle for Cal, while several of them approached him to give him congratulatory pats on the back. Cal was all smiles while he received adulation from his squadron mates. Before he finally left, Ozma reached outwards to shake hands with Cal. It was quite a sign of respect and Cal quickly grabbed Ozma's hand and shook it. "Thank you very much, Sir!" he said with gratitude in his voice.

"We'll get you your very own team as soon as there is an opening, but for now, you can work on keeping Rabbit Team out of trouble for Kanaria," Ozma said with a smile.

After Ozma finally left the locker room, the trio of pilots in Rabbit Team approached Cal and began to jostle him around in a playful manner. "Ha ha! I guess we don't have much of a choice but to show you the respect that you deserve now, huh?" one pilot jokingly said. "You're having dinner with us tonight. We'll show you how Rabbit Team unwinds after a hard day's work!" another pilot remarked.

It seemed that Cal didn't have a choice, but a bit of a celebratory meal did sound like a hell of a time. He quickly agreed to their proposal, "I'll be there!"

…

Aimo's afternoon sun bathed the Zentraedi starport with an orange-hue and the Eksidos once again rested in its moorings on the shore. A handful of welding crews worked to repair several dents and holes in the ship's hull that had been caused by collisions with debris floating around the battlefield out in the Coral system.

Finally reunited with his ship, Captain Geraum sat at his desk while he worked to catch up on his duties. The chime on his office door alerted him to someone's presence on the outside. "Come!" he beckoned. Seeing that his visitor was whom he had expected it to be, he casually invited her inside. "Ah, good. You're here. Have a seat, Commander."

Klan made sure that she put on her best form of presentation while she was there. If she was going to be handed down some form of punishment, she was going to accept it with dignity and poise. As she sat down in the seat in front of his desk, the Captain got up and walked over to a small table on the side of the room.

"Would you like some tea?" he casually asked as he began to pour a cup from the pot that was sitting on a warmer.

Klan noticed that he already had a cup on his desk and it was still steaming. It looked like she didn't have any choice, since he appeared to be already pouring her a cup. "Um, sure...!" she responded.

He handed her the cup of piping hot tea and walked around to his side of the desk to sit back down again. He pushed a plate of pastries towards her, "Danish?" She simply smiled and took one of the sweet delectables off of the dish. However, after she took a bite, he retracted his hands and rested his chin on them with his fingers intertwined. He seemed to be putting a lot of thought into what he was about to say.

This behavior was a bit alarming to Klan and she began to think about what was about to come out of his mouth. "_What is he buttering me up for?_" she thought to herself.

"Let me tell you a little story, Commander... Many years ago at the academy, there was a little incident involving a tightly-knit group of pilots. They were performing routine training maneuvers based off a single Northampton-class cruiser a few light years from the Solar System, when they came under attack by a small fleet of uncultured Zentraedi. In order to save the ship and its crew, the captain ordered a space fold to retreat to the safety of the Earth's defense frontier. Unfortunately, a couple of the pilots were left behind because they could not make it back to the ship in time." Captain Geraum reclined in his chair as he recalled the events of the past. "Two of the pilots who had made it back in time pleaded with the captain to let them return and rescue their friends. Unfortunately, the captain had to assume that the abandoned pilots were a lost cause. It was a prudent decision and he was choosing the correct course of action. However, this was not to the pilots' liking. They somehow believed that their friends were still alive and that it would be worth risking their lives for in order to rescue them. Sometime in the night, those two pilots snuck into the hangar and stole their fighters. They then looted four prototype fold boosters from the storage areas and blasted their way out of the hangar before folding back to the last known positions of their friends."

At this point, Klan understood why he was telling her this story. She could only guess as to the point that he was going to make, though.

"When those two pilots re-entered the area in which they had left their friends, they began to search for any signs of their position. Miraculously, they made contact with the lost pilots, who had been hiding inside of one of the sub-planetary bodies nearby. Unfortunately, their presence was then detected by the uncultured Zentraedi fleet and they came under heavy fire while they frantically fought for theirs and their friends' survival. Somehow, they made it to their friends' positions, attached the two extra fold boosters to their fighters, and successfully folded out of the system and back to the fleet."

Klan smiled while Captain Geraum leaned forward over his desk and towards her and asked a question, "Do you have any idea who those two reckless pilots who saved their friends were?" Klan shook her head before he answered his own question. "_I_ was one of those pilots and the other... was your mother."

Klan nearly reeled in shock at the answer. She couldn't help but laugh a little bit in disbelief, "What?"

The Captain nodded as he continued, "I was in the academy with your mother so many years ago and we felt compelled to save our friends from certain death. Needless to say, we were scared to death when we returned to the fleet. We were certain that we'd be kicked from the academy and brought under indictment for theft and destruction of government property. However, we were called into a meeting behind closed doors to discuss our fate. Our superiors were definitely more than upset with us, but they also made note of our heroism, excellent performance under pressure, and flawless execution of our plan. We were let off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist, and the matters of the case were classified beyond our level of clearance." He cupped one hand over the side of his mouth, as if he was telling a secret. "The funny thing is that we didn't even _have_ a plan. We just did what we thought was right!"

Klan smiled and tried not to laugh. "It sounds like your superiors were more than willing to cover up the mess that you made. What is it that makes them want to do so?"

Captain Geraum reclined in his chair once more. "Well, it's what we call the 'pilot's prerogative'. Every once in awhile, pilots come along who just seem to have a sixth sense about things. Even though their superiors disagree with them, they are stubborn enough to listen to their instincts and do what they know is the right thing. I'll just say it... Sometimes, you just have to let pilots fly to their hearts' content. Those pilots will always get the job done, no matter what the circumstances. With them, the ends always seem to justify the means. Your mother and I were not the first people to do what we did, and we certainly aren't the last." A smile crept across his face as he glared straight at Klan.

"What does that mean?" Klan asked.

Captain Geraum slightly turned to look at his computer monitor. "I got a communique from your former ship's commander, Captain Wilder. In it, he and your old squadron leader, Commander Lee, invoked this very 'pilot's prerogative' in pleading for a little bit of lenience with your punishment. They make the claim that your actions ended up saving countless lives of pilots and soldiers in the fleet. They also said that your combat performance was 'unbelievable'... you single-handedly scored innumerable kills while behind the controls of the Rasa."

Klan tried so very hard not to let those words get to her ego, but it was too much for her to handle. She started to puff out a bit with pride.

"The technicians are _still_ analyzing the combat data you collected and I can most-closely describe their current state-of-being as 'euphoric'. I've been told that the project can progress forward by several steps because of the information that you've made available to the team. Even _the_y asked that I go easy on you so that they can keep you as their test pilot," the Captain said with a laugh.

Klan smiled, but she still didn't want to fully believe that she was going to be off the hook. "Well, I can't help but wonder what your final decision will be, though."

He stared at her for a moment before he chuckled. "You _are_ your mother's daughter..." he said as he got up from his chair to stare out of the window that faced the ship's bridge. "You're probably wondering why I haven't mentioned anything about knowing your mother up to this point, huh?" Klan nodded, even though he was turned away from her. He quickly answered his question again, "I have to admit... I had a bit of a crush on your mother when we were in the academy. I had never met such a strong and independent woman and I knew she was going to go far in her career. She was a damn good pilot and I couldn't help but feel attracted to her. Unfortunately for me, she was already in love with an upperclassman at the academy. After our graduation, we both signed up to join the Frontier fleet, which was about ready to depart from Earth on its mission. We tried to remain in contact following our graduation, but life seemed to get in the way and we slowly drifted apart. Before we stopped communicating with each other, she had told me that she had a baby girl... I'm guessing that it was _you_ she was talking about."

Klan smiled at the feeling of nostalgia emanating from Captain Geraum. Even though it was a little strange hearing about events that transpired before and around the time of her own birth, it was refreshing to hear a story about her mother's past from another angle.

"When I first met you last week, I felt as if I had seen you somewhere before. I didn't make the immediate connection, but eventually, I realized that you were Marjel's daughter. You have no idea how much you remind me of her and quite frankly, it brings back good memories of my youth. Once I realized who you were, I felt compelled to contact your mother and check in to see how she's doing."

"What did she say to that?" Klan asked.

"Well, she seems to be very happy. I'm surprised she has already retired, but I guess she just enjoys the family life. The way she was going back then, I had no idea that she'd end up settling down like that. Regardless, she still managed to serve a productive and successful term in the NUNS and I'm happy for her. I spoke to her earlier today and I have to admit, we did have a good laugh with each other when I told her what you had done."

Klan suddenly felt shocked and embarrassed upon finding out that her own mother now knew of what had happened in the last 24 hours. This conversation might have to end quickly before she finds out more than she really wants to know. "So, what's to become of me, Captain?"

He smirked at her apparent masochism; her desire was to just take her punishment and get it over with. "I don't have any problem writing off this incident as a case of 'pilot's prerogative'. However, I don't appreciate you blasting holes in my ship's hull. You're going to be spending time with the repair crew until the damage to my ship is completely repaired. Any questions?"

Klan shook her head. "No, Sir."

"Alright... report to the hangar and get to work," he said as he stood up to salute.

Klan saluted in return and left the office thinking about what had just transpired. She could have easily put her career in serious jeopardy, but she has to feel fortunate that it wasn't the case. Although she seems to have come out of it without any serious repercussions, she has a bit of a task to complete as punishment. The embarrassment of having to be seen doing manual labor with the repair crews might get a few laughs from the project's technicians and from her own pilots. She continued down the corridor with a wry grin on her face, "_It was totally worth it, though_..." she thought to herself.

…

After spending the last day together on the Zentraedi medical frigate, Will and Nene finally returned to the familiarity of their own ship. While walking down one of the corridors in the ship together, their conversation was interrupted by raucous noise coming from the direction of the mess hall. Compelled to investigate, they looked into the mess hall to find that a large group of pilots and crew gathered around Cal, who was standing on to of one of the tables with a shot glass in his hand.

With a slightly-slurred voice, he spoke to everyone in the room. "Okay, everyone... shut up for a sec. Shh! Shush!" he barked. It took a few moments for the rest of the crew to stop talking. Once he was sure he had their attention he boldly declared what he wanted to say. "I just want to shay that I think it would be a good idea if we had a bit of a moment of shilence for all of those brave sholdiers who lost their lives out there last night. May they rest in peace for eternity." He raised his newly-filled shot glass above his head. "We won't forget your sacrifice. This drink is for you!"

The rest of the room grunted in agreement as they each took a shot of their drinks. A perfect silence fell over the room for a moment while they all paid their respects to their fallen comrades.

After waiting for a bit, Cal broke the silence once more. "Alright! My damn glass is empty again. Someone help me out here!" he said as he put his shot glass out like a beggar asking for loose change. More grunts and yells filled the room and someone poured another shot for Cal. Once more, raucous laughter and chatter filled the room.

Upon seeing this unorthodox display of debauchery, Will and Nene rushed into the room to find out what the fuss was all about. Will raised his voice to be heard above the noise. "Hey! What the hell is going on in here? Why was _I_ not invited to this little shindig?"

Cal heard the voice of his roommate and a look of surprise fell over his face. "Hey! Look who it is! You guys got back just in time to help us shelebrate!" he said as he turned away to tap his shot glass against another pilot's glass.

Will's question still had not yet been answered. "Celebrate what? Cal! Over here!" he yelled.

Another crew member answered Will's question before Cal turned back towards him. "He just got promoted and we're breaking in his new rank with some good ol' whiskey."

Cal responded to the crew member's answer by showing off his new rank insignia on his uniform and playfully growling at Will and Nene. A permanent smile had adhered itself to his face, no matter what he did or said.

"Well, alright! Congratulations, Cal!" Will said. He and Nene were ecstatic when they heard the news, but they were a little concerned about the drinking that was, most likely, unauthorized. "Where did you guys get some whiskey?" he asked the crew member.

"I don't know who brought it, but I'm sure that they had been hiding it and saving it for a special occasion," the crew member replied.

Nene grabbed Will's arm and pulled him in closer so she could speak into his ear. "You know that they're gonna bring a shitstorm of trouble down on themselves if Ozma or one of the other commanders sees this. We need to get Cal out of here and break up this little party before someone really gets hurt."

Just as Will nodded in agreement, Cal lost his balance and fell off of the table, straight onto the floor. "Oh shit!" While he tumbled to one side, the table fell the other direction. He was left lying on the ground with his legs propped up on the table's side and holding his head from smashing it on the deck. While he grimaced in pain, he continued to laugh at his own stupidity. Most of the crew members laughed at his misfortune, but only Will and Nene seemed to be concerned enough to not find it very funny.

Nene jumped into the middle of the group and began to shove everyone away from Cal. "Alright, that's it! Break it up, you guys! This party is now officially over!" Everyone started to groan and continued to dawdle, hoping that she'd change her mind. She knelt down to help Will pick Cal up off of the ground and over his shoulder. Seeing that nobody had started to leave, she turned back towards the crew members and snapped at them. "Now! That's an order!"

Seeing that she meant business, the crew members began to scatter, leaving the mess hall in a bit of a state of disorganization. Nene stood up with Will to help him carry Cal on his shoulder and they left the mess hall as quickly as they could. Cal remained motionless and his arms and legs hung down like he was a rag doll. He kept on muttering gibberish while his body dealt with his drunkenness and enormous headache from falling to the ground. Somehow through all of it, he still held onto his shot glass.

Once in their quarters, Will managed to toss Cal onto the bottom bunk without hitting his head on the shelving again. He grabbed a small flashlight and checked Cal's pupil dilation for any signs of a concussion. Fortunately, there was no immediate evidence of any damage and Will took off Cal's shoes to lift his legs up to the bed. While he waited for Nene to return to the quarters, he fixed his gaze on the new rank insignia on Cal's uniform and began to wonder when it would be _his_ turn to get promoted.

The door opened and Nene entered the quarters with a cold pack and a small packet in her hands. Will got a glass of water from the bathroom and opened the packet to reveal its contents. He picked up Cal's head and inserted a pair of pills before putting the glass of water up to his mouth. Cal seemed to resist, not fully aware of what was going on. "Eat these, Cal. One's for the headache, and the other is to help your body metabolize the alcohol so you'll sober up real fast."

Cal processed the words for a moment before he finally accepted the pills into his mouth and drank the water from the cup. "Wait... what? What the hell happened? Why does it feel like my skull is being split open by a jackhammer?"

Will and Nene looked at each other and laughed. She then took the cold pack and broke the seal between the two chemical compartments to start the endothermic reaction inside of the packet. She sat down and placed the cold pack onto Cal's head and answered his question. "Those guys really got you smashed. How many drinks did you have?"

Cal thought about his answer for a minute, but his memory was quite fuzzy. "I... I don't know. I can barely remember anything." He fell silent for a moment before he put his palms onto his forehead and spoke again, "God, I can't believe I let them talk me into drinking. I guess you guys got there just in time to keep me from getting caught, huh? I guess I owe you both one."

They both laughed again at his brutal honesty. "Let's just say we're even now. You saved us both out there on the battlefield, we saved your ass from getting chewed out here on the ship. Fair trade? I thought so too!" Nene jokingly replied. Cal kept his eyes closed while he smiled in response to her joke. The only thing that he wanted to do at that moment was to finally get some rest so he'll be ready to perform his duties the next day.

…

A few hours later on the Quarter's bridge, Captain Wilder sat in his chair while he worked at the console to his side. His crew worked diligently to coordinate all of the ship's activities, both inside and outside of the hull. Almost as if he expected it, the Captain casually looked up towards the radar station just as several warning chimes began to sound.

"Defold reactions forming outside of the fleet!" Monica exclaimed.

She turned to see a stoic Captain Wilder remain motionless in his chair. "Don't worry about it. The fleet is getting reinforced. As for us, well..." he said as he turned his gaze towards the main monitor in front of him.

Many defold reactions had formed outside of the fleet's extremities and a mixture of Zentraedi and Human capital ships emerged from the portals. Among them was an enormous Nupetiet-Vergnitzs battleship, spanning over four kilometers from bow to stern.

Like clockwork, the Quarter received an incoming transmission from the battleship that had just recently entered the area. Without hesitation, Lam put the transmission up on the main screen for Captain Wilder to be able to interact with the individual on the other side.

"This is Rear Admiral Toral Raozj to Fleet Captain Wilder. We stand ready to relieve you of your station, Quarter."

Mena quickly turned to Lam at her side, "Did he say '_Relieve'_?"

The Rear Admiral continued with his introductory statements. "Captain Wilder, you are hereby permitted to relinquish your title of Fleet Captain. I'll take command of the fleet from here," he said with a friendly demeanor.

Captain Wilder got up from his chair to salute his new superior officer. "'Rear Admiral', huh? No longer a Fleet Commander, Sir?"

Admiral Raozj shook his head in response. "No, as part of the process to assimilate my fleet into the colony's forces, I was given a comparable rank in your hierarchy." Following his answer, he shifted his posture a bit before speaking again. "I am sending you new orders from NUNS command, Captain. On behalf of my men, I wish you luck on your new assignment!"

Everyone on the bridge began to look at each other with confusion written on their faces. Captain Wilder quickly scanned over the orders from the Admiral and turned to his crew on the bridge.

"Jen, recall all of our fighters and inform me when the hangar is secure and all personnel are accounted for. Mena and Bobby, when you are ready for a fold maneuver, let me know. We're going home, everyone!" he gladly declared.

Everyone suddenly smiled and looked at each other with excitement. "Yes, Sir!" they all chimed in as they turned towards their stations to complete their duties with zeal.

Within several minutes, the Macross Quarter majestically exited the fleet's formation and entered into hyperspace. The portal shut behind them and motes of super-dimensional energy floated away from the brief singularity left behind in its wake. The fleet was now back at its former strength, and was left in the capable hands of the NUNS's newest rear admiral.


	36. On the Homefront

A/N: "Finally, a new chapter!" huh? I know what you all are thinking, so don't try to hide it... ;)

I'm prepping my Chapter 40 outline right about now, but I haven't actually started _writing_ it yet. It seems that I am falling a little bit behind with each new chapter. I'm glad I started out with a five-chapter buffer. It's down to a three-chapter buffer, so at least I still have some breathing room. School's going great, job's going great, so I'm in no danger of having to put this writing aside out of necessity. I've been playing the hell out of Left 4 Dead 2 and I've been meaning to ask you guys that if you play L4D2 or Alien Swarm, let me know. I only play expert campaign, and prefer expert realism on L4D2. If you are good enough to hang with that skill level, feel free to send a friend request through Steam. My screen name is "frothymug". Just as verification that it's me, I have the UN-Spacy kite as my icon. I could use a few more skilled players to play with.

Ah, yes... forgot to mention the MacF movie 1, "Itsuwari no Utahime" is available on BD/DVD. No English subtitles, though... still waiting for the fansubs to release a subbed version so we can understand everything that's going on. I've seen it without subs, and while it's a visually-pleasing movie, I felt slightly disappointed in the overall product. I won't ruin any details for any of you, but I'd still recommend it as a good watch. I just got tired of the non-stop bombardment of Alto, Sheryl, and Ranka. They didn't spend nearly enough time with the other characters, and that was probably the main reason I didn't like it. We'll see what they come up with in the 2nd movie. The mecha battles were quite sexy, though! :)

Back to the story, I feel that I should offer a slight head's-up... The next few chapters will generally be heavy on character development. That means there won't be tons of action, like before. However, it will lead up to some pretty nifty events within a few chapters. This character development was kind of necessary, both to add some more "realism" to the characters, and to fill in the timeline of my overall story. None of it will be useless filler material, though; I don't have the time or space for that crap. Pretty much everything will have meaning in a future event. -(10/17/10)

* * *

Cal's "Night of a Thousand Aches" finally came to an end when he was woken by his alarm. His head was still throbbing a bit from both the after-effects of the previous night's drinking and from falling off of the table in the mess hall. His mouth had the texture of desert sand and the overwhelming urge to drink some water enabled him to quickly get out of bed, instead of snoozing a bit.

Turning the bathroom light on, he grimaced in pain from the light suddenly assaulting his eyes; but it didn't take him long to turn on the faucet and lean down to drink directly from the spout. Once he felt satisfied with the amount of water he had taken in, he began to wash his face off in an attempt to wake himself up a bit more.

After finishing his business, he left the bathroom light on to fill the quarters with a bit of light. He usually woke up before Will did, so he was used to getting ready as quietly as possible. However, as he approached the bunks, he noticed that the top bunk was neatly made and nobody was sleeping in it. "Huh... I guess he spent the night with Nene," Cal told himself. Thinking nothing of it, he walked over to the front of the room to turn the lights on and started the coffeemaker that sat on the small table in their quarters.

Walking the halls in full uniform and his thermos full of coffee in his hand, Cal began to wonder why the ship seemed to be deserted. Only an occasional crew member would walk by him in the halls, but it was far less activity than he was used to seeing at this time of the morning. He made a mental note of the fact that he couldn't feel the ship's engines running, either. Rather than taking his usual route straight to the mess hall in search of a breakfast pastry, he decided to take the scenic route and pass through the observation deck first.

From an approaching perspective, the observation deck was generally dark; but it usually had a soft glow coming from the stars and planetary bodies outside of the ship, giving the room a calm ambiance. This time was no exception to the norm, and Cal casually approached the nearest window to see what was going on outside of the ship at that time.

He took a large sip of coffee just as he came into view of the ship's exterior. The beautiful skyline of Frontier City was flooding the observation deck with artificial light. The entire ocean bay was visible, displaying a panoramic view of most of the city. Off on the horizon, an orange glow began to creep into the pre-dawn sky. After taking a microsecond to confirm what his eyes were seeing, Cal nearly inhaled his coffee out of surprise. His natural reaction was to spit it out before it burned his esophagus.

"What the hell?" he said as he rushed up to the glass and put his hands up to lean against it to look outside. He quickly gritted his teeth and pounded on the glass before he reached down to grab his PDA. After punching a few keys on the touchscreen, he put it up to his ear and waited for his call to go through.

Once the call connected, a familiar voice answered, "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Finally awake, huh?"

"Will, you asshole! Why didn't you wake me up?"

Cal listened to Will and Nene laughing on the other side of the connection. "I _did_ try to wake you up, but you literally threatened to kill me if I didn't let you sleep!"

"Bullshit, I don't remember that! I oughta kick your ass for leaving me on the ship!"

Cal could hear Will turn away from his phone to talk to Nene. "He's threatening me with physical violence again..." he said with a laugh. Nene's faint voice responded to Will, but Cal couldn't make out what she was saying. After laughing at what she said to him, Will turned back to his phone to relay the message. "She says you're a lousy drinker and you don't know how to handle your liquor. She says 'next time, use training wheels when drinking'."

Just as he was getting upset at their verbal jabs, Cal began to consider the possibility that he was so inebriated, that he just didn't remember anything that happened while he was trying to sleep. "Okay, goddammit... I'm going to let you two off the hook because I need a favor from Nene anyway. Where the hell are you guys?"

"We went to find some breakfast while we wait for the Folmo Mall to open." Will's voice became faint again on the line. "Here Nene, he wants to talk to you."

Nene's voice suddenly became clear as a bell. "What's up, Rip van Winkle?"

"You're really pushing it!" Cal said through his gritting teeth. After he took a deep breath to calm himself down, he continued talking to Nene. "I need you to do me a favor..."

…

Light from the street lamps on the highway temporarily flooded Ozma's car as it passed by each post. The faint sound of Fire Bomber music could be heard from the car's speakers while he placed a call on his cell phone. After waiting for an answer, a look of disappointment found its way onto his face and he looked at the phone for a moment before disconnecting the call with the push of a button. He set his phone down on the passenger chair and turned his stereo system back up again. Reaching down to the gearshift, Ozma downshifted and stomped on the gas pedal. Although not as effective as his VF-25S, the car still had the necessary power to throw his body back into the seat a bit. The tires briefly squealed before the car lurched forward from the sudden acceleration.

Ozma's replica Lancia Delta HF Integrale 16v Evoluzione II couldn't have looked more beautiful while it sat in a parking space underneath the apartment building. He certainly did miss driving his car and being able to partake of its beauty, but there was another precious and beloved possession that he missed even more. He finished looking over the car before he set the alarm and walked away towards the elevators nearby.

From inside of the apartment, the lock could faintly be heard as it turned. Ozma carefully stepped inside the apartment, trying not to rustle the plastic wrapping around the bouquet of flowers he held in one hand. The other hand held a rectangular cardboard box by its handle. Surprisingly, the lights were not all off. There was a soft glow in each room in sight and the fragrance of potpourri and scented candles graced his sense of smell.

After gently closing the door and locking it behind him, Ozma picked up the box by its handle and took one step into the hallway before he noticed a handwritten note taped to the door frame leading to the living room.

"Deposit pineapple cake and bouquet in the dining room. Payment will be remitted immediately following the transaction. No exceptions allowed!" the sign said with an arrow pointing to Ozma's left.

Immediately, he realized why his phone calls were not being answered; he was already expected. Ozma smiled and exhaled after he found out that his surprise was already spoiled by expectation.

Cathy knew her man so well, in fact, that she could predict that he would come to her apartment, what time he would arrive, and what gifts he would bring to her. Working in the office of the Joint Chiefs did afford her access to information that was classified to all but the most important officers in the NUNS. She was quite skillful at using that information to get things done, and she had more than enough time to plan their rendezvous once she found out that the Quarter was returning to Aimo.

The dining table was set and a cake dish sat empty in the midst of the dishes and centerpieces. A decorative vase sat waiting for the flowers it seemed destined to carry. However, there was nobody in the room except Ozma. He immediately understood what needed to be done to get the ball rolling and quickly unpacked the contents of the rectangular box before placing the flowers into the vase.

Satisfied with his work, Ozma stood straight up and rubbed his hands together with anticipation while he looked around for a reaction. Almost with mechanical timing and precision, Cathy appeared in the doorway wearing a nightgown and standing in a seductive pose.

Ozma only smiled at these developments with excitement and began to chuckle with a slightly evil tone. "I should have known better than to try and surprise you."

Cathy approached him and answered his statement, "I'll do the surprising around here. Now, as promised, your payment for rendering your services..." At first, she gently embraced Ozma and began to kiss him. After a few seconds, she began to thoroughly enjoy the emotional exchange and started to pull him out of the dining room and into the hallway. Before they disappeared out of sight, she had already removed his jacket and tossed it on the floor, all while still keeping her lips locked with his.

…

Mother and father sat on their couch in silence as they watched their little boy sleep in his mother's lap. Eddie Berstein slept while holding onto a brand new VB-6 Koenig Monster toy that his mother brought with her upon her return home. The opened cardboard box still sat on the coffee table in front of them, along with the protective packaging that kept the toy from being damaged while it was in storage.

Kanaria made sure that she appreciated the very fact that she was able to see her family once more. Just as she gave her son a slight squeeze, her husband noticed that she was behaving a little out-of-the-ordinary.

"I know that look... something is bothering you. May I ask what?" he said to her.

"I'm just... I'm just glad that I got to see you both again, that's all."

This was not something he was used to hearing from the usually-confident Kanaria. Being emotionally in-tune with his wife afforded him a keen insight as to what she was really thinking. "I'm sure you don't really feel like talking about it right now, but I want to know what's troubling you. You can talk to me about it when you feel like it, alright?"

Kanaria smiled at her husband's concern for her worries. However, she wanted to just enjoy being able to hold her son and talk to her husband in person again. "I will... I will..." she said as she leaned over and put her head on his shoulder.

…

Back in the comfort of her home in Laplamiz, Klan slept on her side, while the blankets on her bed remained disheveled and twisted behind her on the bed. She wore a loose-fitting tank-top shirt and shorts, but wore nothing to restrain her long, blue hair from going wherever it pleased. The dawn light began to fill the room as the digital clock on the nightstand approached 6 AM.

With a sharp tone, the alarm clock began to sound its wake-up signal as it was programmed to do. The sudden noise caused Klan to grimace while she clumsily rolled to the side a bit and reached out to her nightstand to hit the snooze button. Just as she was about to drop her hand onto the clock, the alarm seemed to turn off on its own. Her hand hung in the air for a moment until she dropped it back onto the bed and enjoyed the peace and quiet once more.

Slowly coming out of her sleep, her mind began to wonder why the alarm had turned itself off. Still too tired to ponder the situation, she decided to keep snoozing for another minute before attempting to get up. Unfortunately, the question still hung in her mind and she finally tried to open her eyes to investigate the nature of this "haunted" alarm clock that seems to have developed a will of its own.

Her eyes fought with the sudden intake of light in order to focus on the object on her nightstand. However, she could plainly make out the silhouette of something else that wasn't supposed to be there. Only a couple of seconds and she thought she recognized what it was, but didn't initially believe her own eyes.

"Cal?" she exclaimed with a gasp and lifted her torso up from the bed.

Cal patiently sat on her alarm clock, while he waited for her to wake up. Finally recognized, he responded to her to confirm what she thought she was seeing. "Well, 'good morning' to you too!"

She reacted by reaching behind and trying to cover herself up with her blankets, but they were too messed up to serve their intended purpose. "What the hell are you doing here?" she exclaimed once more. She buried her face in her pillow and did her best to cover herself up from the embarrassment of being seen in her sleep garb.

Cal was a little shocked at her question, but then he realized that maybe it wasn't such a great idea to have been sitting there watching her sleep. To lessen the creepiness-factor, he tried to assuage her sense of embarrassment as quickly as possible. "Relax, you're not dressed indecently or anything... Nene let me in and told me it would be okay to wait in here for you to wake up."

"That's not what I meant! You're supposed to be somewhere in space!" she continued to whine. She fumbled with her blankets, trying to untwist them so they would do a better job of protecting her appearance from undeserving eyes.

"Oh..." Cal said with a slight laugh, "We were recalled home and got back in early this morning." He thought about what she said for a moment before speaking again. "Wait a minute, does that mean that you don't mind the fact that I snuck into your room and I've been watching you sleep for a little while?"

"Does it _look_ like I mind?" She replied as she clutched her blanket even tighter over her shoulder to accentuate her answer.

"Well, you didn't seem to mind a couple of weeks ago... This is how you were the last time I saw you; sleeping in a bed on the medical frigate. What's the big deal?"

Klan realized that he did make a good point there. However, she knew better than to give him the benefit of the doubt. Upon hearing his statement, she tried to stare him down with a feigned look of anger. "Do you realize that sitting on my alarm clock was not a safe place to be when I'm sleeping? I could have seriously hurt you, not knowing that you were there!"

"Yeah, I know... lesson learned, right? At least I was fast enough to hit the snooze button before it was too late." Cal replied with a nervous laugh. He clumsily scratched the back of his head while continuing to chuckle.

With a seemingly-appropriate response, the alarm clock sounded once more because its snooze timer had run out. Cal quickly jumped off of the alarm, startled by the sudden noise. Before he turned away in embarrassment, he could see Klan beginning to laugh at his reaction. Hitting the snooze button once more to silence the alarm, he reached down to find the switch that turns the alarm off for good. "Let's see... which one...?" he mumbled to himself while he read the text printed on the side of the clock. Finding the switch, he grabbed it with his hand and began to tug at it. Instead of moving the switch, he jerked the entire clock forwards. A couple more tries still yielded the same results.

"Need some help there?" Klan said, trying not to laugh too much.

Cal sighed and stood back up to look at her while he responded. "**No**! I can take care of this on my own..." he chided. To solve his dilemma, he put his foot down into the groove carved for the switch and used the clock itself as leverage so it wouldn't move while he pulled the switch into the "off" position. The stubborn switch finally gave in and clicked into the desired position, but not before making Cal lose his grip and stumble to regain his balance. "Damn, that thing needs to be oiled or something..." he remarked.

"I don't have any problems with it, see?" Klan said while she reached over and began to effortlessly toggle the switch back and forth with one of her fingers.

Cal didn't like being made fun of like that and smacked her hand with his. "Shut up... get that out of here!" he said, continuing to smack the backside of her hand until she moved it away from the clock.

Feeling a little more comfortable with the situation now that she's been able to get a couple of jabs in on him, Klan finally got up and sat on the edge of the bed next to the nightstand upon which Cal was standing. She rubbed her eyes and glanced back at Cal to find out why he became unusually silent, all of a sudden. He wore a certain starry-eyed look for no apparent reason.

"What?" she inquired.

Cal quickly rattled his head and snapped out of it. "Sorry, it's just that I've never seen you out of uniform. I didn't mean to stare..." he said with a nervous chuckle.

"Oh brother..." Klan replied while rolling her eyes. She quickly got up and walked into the adjacent bathroom. From around the corner, Cal could hear her talking to him. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to get ready. I need to report for duty in a little while. If you want to stick around for a bit, you can wait for me in the living room. Out you go!" she declared.

A sense of mischief overcame Cal and he decided to push buttons to see what would happen. "I was just getting comfortable, too! Why can't I watch for just a little bit?"

There was no immediate answer from the bathroom and Cal could almost see Klan rolling her eyes before she finally answered. "You're already pissing me off, Cal. Get out before something bad happens to you."

Exactly the answer he was looking for. Just one more push... "Pfft, you don't scare me. You couldn't hurt me if you tried," he confidently stated as he folded his arms together in arrogance.

Immediately, the sound of something being forcibly placed onto the counter in the bathroom could be heard; the sound of footsteps began to thunder shortly thereafter. Klan burst into the bedroom, angrily stomping towards the nightstand upon which Cal was still standing. She had a very ominous look on her face; enough to make Cal unfold his arms in surprise.

"Oh crap...!" he said as he immediately jumped off of the nightstand and onto her bed, heading straight for the door on the other side. Klan lunged at him and narrowly missed grabbing him, but she wasn't going to give up there. Since Cal was already out of her immediate reach, she grabbed the pillow next to her and hurled it at him.

Cal was stuck trying to negotiate with the bundled up blanket in his way and just as he got to the top, he was pounded by the flying pillow. Fighting off the disorientation of being hit by a large object, no matter how soft it was, he began to pull himself free from underneath the heavy cushioning. Only a moment later, he was pinned underneath the pillow by the sudden application of an overwhelming force from on top of the pillow. "Agh!" he sputtered in discomfort.

Klan sat on her bed with one of her hands mashing the pillow down on top of Cal. She still had a very annoyed look on her face while she spoke to him, "Do **not** get out from underneath this pillow, do you understand? So help me, if I catch you looking, your life is over!" Although she was obviously irritated by Cal's prodding, she seemed to be willing to do him a bit of a favor... at a price.

"Alright! Alright! Geez...!" Cal replied while struggling to breathe under the pressure. It took a couple of seconds before that pressure was finally relieved and he could move once more.

"That's more like it," Klan said with a wry grin as she straightened up again. However, she heard his voice from underneath the pillow again.

"Still didn't hurt, though..." Cal remarked with a chuckle.

Fueled by her irritation from his words, she punched downwards onto the pillow under which Cal was lying. "**Ow**!" he exclaimed in reaction to being hit through the cushioning. "Was that _really_ necessary?" he asked with a hint of anger in his voice.

Thoroughly satisfied with the outcome of the situation, Klan got up from the bed and walked towards the bathroom once again. "Of course it was. Now, quit whining; you'll be fine." She smirked to herself, before passing through the doorway and slamming the door shut behind her.

With no need to embellish his situation anymore, Cal lifted up part of the pillow to allow fresh air to hit his face. He took a deep breath as he reached towards his waist and pulled out his PDA. Just as he started tapping on the screen with the stylus, he started to laugh to himself under his breath. It was funny to him how he felt more "at home" when he had someone to banter with on an even level, even though it sometimes resulted in a less-than-savory outcome.

…

Sometime later, some of the founding members of the United Frontier Services Organization had gathered together in their meeting room for the day's planning session. They were already in the middle of a discussion about the location of their next benefit concert and how they were going to organize the many acts who wanted to perform there.

"...That's good, I like that!" Ranka said as she input the meeting's strongest points and ideas into her laptop computer. Brera sat in his chair wearing his usual quiet and unobtrusive demeanor while he calmly sipped from his cup of coffee. Sitting next to him was Sheryl, who was reading a freshly-printed sheet of paper from Ranka's printer.

After scanning over some of the list that was on the paper, Sheryl interrupted the brainstorming session. "Ranka, we're not going to have the time to get _all_ of these acts onstage in one concert! You're going to need to do some trimming on this list."

Ranka stopped typing and looked up to answer Sheryl. "Time isn't an issue here. Remember, that we are doing this for the benefit of charitable causes. I say that the more we get in, the more we get back." She then looked down and continued working on the laptop.

Sheryl frowned and dropped the paper onto the meeting table in front of her. "Ranka, you need to get your head out of the clouds and understand what I'm trying to tell you here. If you make your shows too long, you are required to fill it with more content than needed. Also, the fans will become jaded too quickly and will lose interest in future venues. If you want to get the most bang for your buck, you need to trim this list to a more manageable size, so you can stretch these acts much farther."

Nanase could sense that voices were becoming slightly raised and tried to calm the situation down before an argument broke out. "Ranka, you need to listen to Sheryl. She's got years of experience with this sort of thing and she's only trying to help you out!"

Ranka stopped typing again and leaned back in her chair to fold her arms in front of her. She closed her eyes to calm herself down a bit. Just as she opened her eyes and took a breath to respond, a paper airplane slowly glided across the table in front of her. It made a perfect landing on top of one of the books; silence interrupted the heated conversation while everyone stared at it.

Ranka reached over and grabbed the paper airplane. "Who's making paper airplanes during the meeting?" She then looked at it more closely and saw that it had a familiar construction to it. "_No way_!" she thought to herself as she and everyone reacted to a voice coming from the meeting room's door.

"Nice place you guys have here..." Alto said while leaning against the door frame. He was already working on another paper airplane in his hands while Luca stood next to him, intently staring at Nanase. Both pilots looked sharp in their uniforms; efforts were made to give a good presentation when being reunited with their closest friends after being gone for nearly three months.

The three women in the room, Ranka, Sheryl, and Nanase; all simultaneously cried out in excitement upon seeing Alto and Luca finally back home. Each one of them instantly latched onto the one who meant the most to them, while they all sputtered and swooned over the surprise visit. Alto and Luca briefly looked at each other and chuckled while they tried to stay standing upright.

"When did you guys get back?" Ranka asked with exuberance.

"Oh, _very_ early this morning. Luca and I waited for a few hours before coming here to see you," Alto casually replied.

Sheryl approached Alto with a scolding tone, "You've been back for several hours and you never bothered to try and contact us?"

He reeled back a bit in defense, as he usually has to do when Sheryl is around. "Hey, we wanted to surprise all of you at the same time, is that okay?"

Suddenly, Sheryl's accusing demeanor dramatically changed back into a more cheery one. "Well, that's okay. We still loves ya anyways," she said while she hugged him again.

Brera finally advanced towards Alto, still calm as ever. "Since you're still alive, it must be that those Galaxy pilots have started to lose their edge." He stared at Alto with a blank expression, unwilling to reveal whether or not he was really being serious. He finally cracked a smirk and finished his statement, "...or maybe you've gotten just good enough to be able to survive in a bit of a scrape with them."

Alto smiled and shook hands with Brera. "Oh, I don't know, we got ourselves a few kills to brag about, right Luca?" he said as he turned to see why Luca was being so quiet.

He was unable to answer, due to the fact that he was currently engaged in a kiss with Nanase. Everyone began to chuckle under their breath while they looked for something else on which to focus their attention. Deciding that it would be best to leave Luca and Nanase alone, the rest of the gang sat down at the meeting table to talk about everything that's transpired since they were last together.

…

Finding a good vantage point to do some people-watching, Cal leaned against the railing of the elevated walkway upon which he was standing. He munched on a chunk of sweetened bread while he watched Zentraedi citizens go about their business in Laplamiz. Knowing that he was off-duty for the next few days, he still felt it necessary to spend his time reflecting upon his own thoughts, rather than finding something fun and relaxing to do. No matter how hard he tried to focus on something else, his mind kept wandering back to his visit with Klan...

_A/N: I couldn't figure out a good way to write in a segue to this flashback moment_

Cal now reclined on top of the pillow that was once covering him, using his PDA as an entertainment device while he waited for Klan to finish getting ready for her shift. He appeared to be playing some kind of game on it, using his stylus and fingers to enter his commands. Since she was almost done getting ready, she told him that it was okay to come out from under the pillow. However, she still remained hidden around the corner of the bathroom doorway, but kept the door open so she could hear whatever Cal was saying to her.

While he continued playing his game, he finally decided to ask a question that's been burning a hole in his skull for the last couple of days. "Klan?"

"Yeah...?" she answered from inside of the bathroom.

"How come you never bothered to contact me before your ship left the fleet a couple of days ago?" he asked.

She took a moment to answer. "I'm sorry about that, Cal. I just couldn't communicate with anyone outside of the ship."

"Why not? What happened?"

Another moment of silence passed before she answered his questions. "Remember when I told you that I can't really talk about the prototype Queadluun?" She waited for him to respond, but Cal remained silent. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but... Well, I wasn't authorized to be out there and I ended up 'borrowing' it to get to you guys."

Cal paused his game and put the PDA down in his lap. "You **stole** the prototype? What were you thinking?" he said with a slightly accusatory tone.

"I can't explain it, but I felt... _compelled_ to be out there. It was as if I knew that something bad was happening and I had to be there to help you guys."

Cal raised his eyebrow in disbelief. "So, you put your career at risk, based on a _hunch_? That's not like you, Klan."

Suddenly, she felt like she needed to go on the defensive. "Well, I was right, wasn't I? You wouldn't be here talking to me if I hadn't done what I did. You can show a little more gratitude, you know..."

Cal laughed, hearing her defensive response. "No, I'm not trying to be ungrateful. I just want to know why you chose to take such a reckless risk, knowing what would happen when you got back..." He stopped speaking for a moment as he thought about what he had just said. "Wait, that means that you couldn't contact me because you were in trouble, weren't you?" The lack of an answer from Klan confirmed his suspicion. "I guess I shouldn't have gotten upset about all that, then..." he mumbled to himself.

Although his comment was not intended for her ears, she managed to catch enough words to get the gist of it. She stopped what she was doing and poked her head out of the bathroom. "Wait, what? Did you just say that you were upset because I didn't try and contact you?"

Cal didn't expect to have to answer that question because he didn't mean for her to hear what he said. "Huh? No- I mean... yeah, kinda," he said with a sigh. There was no point in trying to recover or he'd just dig himself in a little deeper.

"That's not like you, Cal," Klan said, mocking his earlier statement.

"It's just that you disappeared so quickly, and I never got the chance to say... 'thanks'," Cal dejectedly said. He seemed to struggle to say that last word.

Rather than respond, Klan finished up in the bathroom and exited as she turned off the light inside. She quietly walked over to the side of the bed near Cal and knelt down at the side of the bed. She rested her arm on the bed near the pillow upon which he was lying.

"I know you're excited to see me again. As am I to see you, but... I need you to understand that in my new position, I'm going to be very busy. It's not the same as before, when our work kept us close together... both in proximity and in what we do for a living." Cal remained silent as he listened to her words. She shifted her posture and rested the other arm on the bed, crossing them both and placing her chin on top. "I know you're going to be off-duty for a few days, but try not to depend on me to keep you entertained. I can't make any promises, but I'll try to let you know if and when I'll have some free time, okay?"

Cal put away his PDA and slid off of the pillow and onto the bed near where Klan was leaning on it. "Your career should always come first, Klan. I'm happy for your new rank and position and I'm glad that you've got such an awesome opportunity to make a difference by being a test pilot. Now you know why I love what I do, huh?"

Klan smiled, but the subject of rank caused her gaze to drift towards Cal's new insignia on his uniform. She quickly gasped with a bit of excitement. "You got promoted?"

"Oh... yeah! Cool, huh?" he said as he turned his torso to show off his new uniform decoration.

"See? You earned that promotion all on your own! Congratulations!"

Cal shook his head and smiled before responding. "No, not _all_ on my own. I had a little help along the way..."

"Oh, don't get all modest... That's not the Cal I am used to seeing. Normally, your head would be so inflated, you'd be practically floating!" she remarked with a wry grin on her face.

"Well, sometimes you run into people who have the power to cause a little bit of a change within you, even when they're not really trying to. Sometimes it's a good change, sometimes it's not," Cal said looking straight at her with a smile.

"Well, do you like the change in you?"

Cal looked upwards, as if he was pondering the question. "I don't know, I haven't decided yet!"

Klan smiled at his answer. "Yeah, that's more like the kind of answer you'd give." She glanced over to the clock on the nightstand and realized that time was starting to run out for her. "Alright, I'm ready to go. Come on..." she said as she got up and walked to the door. She watched Cal descend from the bed and onto the floor, making sure that he could get down on his own.

Cal waited by the front door while Klan rummaged around in her refrigerator for something to eat on her way to the base. She emerged from the other side of the counter, inspecting the muffin she now held in her hand. Once she approached Cal, she knelt down and offered the muffin to him. "Want some?" she said as she pinched off a small piece and gave it to him.

"Muffin? My favorite! How did you know?" Cal playfully asked, taking the giant morsel from her hand. Klan knew that's what he ate for breakfast each morning, from when she'd see him in the Quarter's mess hall in the mornings.

Outside of the front door, the two pilots knew it was time to bid their goodbyes. Klan turned and looked down to Cal. "Do you know how to get out of Laplamiz?" she asked out of concern.

"I think I can find my way..." Cal casually said. He stared at her for a moment, just like he had done before in her bedroom. "You look real good in that uniform," he said, referring to her bright, white NUNS uniform. "I look forward to hearing your stories about test piloting in the near future." He stood at attention to salute her in a sign of respect to both the rank and the person holding that rank.

Klan laughed a bit at the fact that he was saluting her, but she returned a salute back to him for the same reasons. "I won't hold anything back from you, as long as its declassified. You look good with that new rank insignia; you deserved it and I'm proud that you earned it on your own." Klan still insisted on giving him all of the credit for his accomplishment, despite his insistence on giving her some of it.

Both pilots lowered their arms and began to walk away from each other in opposite directions. However, Klan wanted to say one more thing before they parted ways. "Oh... Cal!" she said. He stopped and turned around, ready to cling to her every word. "Thanks for coming to see me. It really means a lot to me that you thought to come by so soon after returning home."

Cal nodded as he responded, "It was the first thing I wanted to do..."

They smiled at each other one more time before finally leaving each other's line of sight...

_A/N: Okay, this is the end of the flashback scene. Sorry for my lack of creativity _;)

Back on the walkway, Cal found himself staring at the hunk of sweet bread that had come from the muffin that Klan was eating for her breakfast. He had to acknowledge that she was considerate enough to choose something that she knew he'd like to eat and offering him some of her own breakfast, even though to her, it was just a tiny fragment of the muffin.

Just as he took another bite, his PDA began to vibrate on his hip from an incoming call. He quickly picked it up and answered, not bothering to finish his bite before speaking. "Hevvo?" he said with a muffled voice.

"Uhhh... hello?" a female voice responded with confusion.

Cal hurriedly chewed his bite and swallowed before speaking again. "Sorry... Hi!" he said with a chuckle. He quickly recognized the voice as Jen's.

"Eating, huh? Well, I just found out that you got promoted! When the hell were you planning on telling me?" she asked with feigned anger in her voice.

"I've been busy! I just got promoted yesterday anyway... I was gonna tell you when I got the chance, so just chill out, okay?" he said with a friendly laugh.

"Not good enough!" Jen responded, "You're going to have lunch with me today. Stephen- I mean, Commander Ortiz is gonna be with me and we wanted to treat you to a meal to congratulate you."

Cal thought about her offer for a moment. He knew it would be kind of awkward to sit at a table with the two of them together in front of him, considering his past with Jen. He could see it now... the first officer of his mothership, staring him down out of jealousy because he'd been with Jen a few months prior.

Cal's apprehension to give an answer prompted Jen to try and talk him into it a bit. "Cal, don't worry about it being weird or anything. Trust me, Stephen is mature enough to not sit there and make a big deal about our past."

He rolled his eyes at her attempt to persuade him into agreeing. "I guess... Fine, yeah I'll-" Cal stopped himself mid-sentence in reaction to the phone's chime alerting him to another incoming call. "Ah, shit. I got another call, hang on a sec..." he said to Jen as he pressed the touchscreen on his PDA to switch the call over. "Hello?"

"Cal! Thank God you answered!" Will's voice hollered on the other side of the line. He seemed to be frantic about something as he continued, "Dude, I am in deep shit! Nene wants me to come with her to her parents' house."

Cal couldn't help but find this development to be hilarious. "Ha ha ha! Sucks to be you, dude!"

"I don't want to go! What do I do?" Will whined.

"Just say you don't want to go. It's not that hard to say!"

"_You_ try saying 'no' to someone who's almost six times taller than you!"

Cal thought for a moment about all of the times he defied Klan, especially when she was in her Meltran form. Even though he was able to do it, he usually got caught in her line of fire when she got upset with him. He then remembered the fresh memory of her storming out of the bathroom in a bee-line towards him when he started to get under her skin. Suddenly, he felt a bit of a shiver course down his spine. "I guess I can see how that might be difficult, but seriously... you gotta man up if you're gonna be with a Meltran like that."

"You're one to talk..." Will responded, referencing Cal's interest in being with Klan. He calmed down a little bit before continuing, "Look, I need you to do me a huge favor... I need you to come with us so I don't feel so out of place there."

Cal was adamant about his answer, "What- **No**! Are you freaking crazy?" Meeting Klan's mother was about the last thing on his priority list at that time.

"Nene was the one who insisted that you come... both as a favor to me and so you can meet Klan's mother and stepfather. Come on, man... you're supposed to be my wingman; both in and out of combat! I need you to cover me," Will pleaded.

Cal forcibly exhaled in reaction to Will's reasoning. "Fine, **alright**! I'll go." He could hear Will sighing in relief on the other side of the line. "Is Nene right there with you?"

"Of course she is, why?"

"Put your phone on speaker so she can hear me."

Will fumbled with his phone for a moment before he spoke into it again. Cal could tell the difference in pitch now that the phone was on speaker. "Okay, it's on speakerphone."

"Nene, understand that I'm doing this as a huge favor to you _both_. However, if Klan's mother is anything like Klan, she's probably going to want to destroy me within five minutes of meeting me. You remember how Klan and I didn't get along at first? That's probably what's going to happen if I meet her mother," Cal confidently stated. A moment of silence followed his words.

"Ummm..." Nene initially mumbled. All of a sudden, both of them could be heard whispering to each other, but Cal couldn't make out what they were saying. Finally, Nene answered. "Don't worry, Cal... My mom is the sweetest Meltran you'll ever meet. You will get along with her _just fine_! We'll come and pick you up in a couple of minutes, okay? See you then!" she said.

"Wait, Nene-" Cal tried to get a response in, but the connection cut off before he could get a full sentence out. He exhaled in frustration, "Oh crap... what am I getting into now?"

Suddenly, he remembered that he had left Jen holding on the other line. He quickly pressed the connect button on his PDA and put the phone back to his ear. "Jen?" he frantically asked.

"Yeah, I'm still here. Is everything alright?"

Cal took a deep breath to calm down and proceeded to decline Jen's offer. "I'm sorry, Jen, but Will just called me and he needs me to get him out of a real bad jam. I'm gonna have to take a rain check on yours and Commander Ortiz's offer. Can I call you later to see if we can reschedule?"

"Sure, hon. I hope everything works out okay!"

Cal sighed again as he answered, "Yeah, I do too..." he trailed off before he bid her goodbye and disconnected the call. Cal put his hands forward and leaned against the railing again as he tried to collect his thoughts. "This _can't_ turn out good... not a chance..." he mumbled to himself.

…

With good cause, the meeting attendees at the UFSO offices decided to postpone their business activities for the time being. Spending time to catch up with each other, Alto and Luca generally dominated the conversation as they shared what they could about their struggles in space. They took care to leave out the details that were deemed as "classified", in order to follow the instructions given to them by their commanding officer. There was still plenty of material to safely cover, though.

"Yeah, we heard you two singing out there while we were fighting the Galaxy fleet," Alto casually stated to Ranka and Sheryl. The two of them were glad to find out that they were able to influence the result of the battle. However, they were more fixated on the figurine that Alto was creating in his hands. His newfound expertise in origami was yielding some strikingly good-looking paper versions of the VF-25 he flew while in combat. "I had no idea that you guys had the ability to communicate so well with the Vajra. They really saved our asses out there."

Both ladies were a little sheepish, upon hearing Alto's compliments. However, there was one inaccuracy in his statement and Sheryl was quick to correct him. "Sorry, Alto, but I don't know how to communicate with them. I can only transmit and receive emotions. Ranka is the one who can communicate with them. She is, after all, the Little Queen."

Alto turned to Ranka and rubbed the top of her head. "Oh? Well, that's some ability you have. You might be able to turn that into something great, if you really applied it. You could become some sort of ambassador to the Vajra on behalf of our colony- no, Humanity and Zentraedi as a whole."

She grew more blushed with each word of encouragement from Alto. "I don't know... It just all seems surreal, right? What good can I do?" she said in an attempt to downplay her potential.

Nanase, who had finally calmed down after the initial frenzy of seeing her dear Luca, decided to add to the conversation. "Your dream of becoming a singer has come true. If you did that, you'd have to give up your dreams, Ranka!"

Luca kind of disagreed with his significant other, however. "I don't know Nanase... Maybe she can realize an even greater dream. It just depends on her point of view."

Those insightful words caused everyone in the room to ponder the possibilities. However, Alto continued to work on his origami figurines, determined to award both Ranka and Sheryl with identical pieces of his handiwork.

Just as Ranka began to consider what had just been discussed, a loud knock came from the cracked-open door. Immediately, it swung open and a man and woman wearing dark suits and sunglasses stood in the doorway. "Pardon our intrusion, but we represent the office of the President. Sheryl Nome and Ranka Mei Lee, your presence is requested in a closed-door meeting this afternoon and we have come to escort you there."

Brera instantly shifted into in between the agents and the rest of the individuals in the room. "What's the meaning of this?" he quietly demanded in a protective way.

Before they could confront him personally, Ranka called out from behind. "Brera, you don't have to be so overprotective. They're just doing their jobs!" she scolded.

Brera adjusted his posture into a more relaxed one before turning around to talk to Ranka. "I just want to make sure that no harm comes to you."

One of the agents looked down at Brera and spoke to him. "Ah, _you're_ Brera Sterne. Your presence has been requested as well, so you will be going with Miss Ranka and Miss Sheryl."

Brera looked back at the agent in surprise, but things seemed to work out in his favor. He was just fine with this situation, as long as he was able to escort his dear little sister to wherever it was that they needed to go.

Again, one of the agents spoke, "You can bring your friends with you on the ride, but they will not be allowed to go inside of the meeting, I'm sorry." Seeing that nobody objected, they turned to their sides to allow room to pass by. "If you don't mind, we have a limousine waiting for you outside."

With understandable apprehension, everyone gathered their things up to leave the building and attend this mysterious meeting. However, it wasn't too far from what they had experienced before in the past and they could probably guess as to the nature of the meeting, considering everything that had happened in the last few days.


	37. Taking the Stand

A/N: Finished Chapter 40, and boy, it was a long chapter... So, I subsequently went through 37 here to give it my seal of approval to submit to you guys for your entertainment.

On the personal side of things, school's going great and work is keeping the bills paid. However, my car is in need of repairs and I'm having to deal with a stingy service contract underwriter on who's going to fix it. I hope to have this bullshit resolved within a few days, though. Aside from a couple of upcoming projects, my schedule looks fairly clear to continue my writing. I don't anticipate any kinds of writer's blocks for the next couple of chapters, but we'll see...

Enough of my incessant babbling, enjoy Chapter 37! -(11/03/10)

* * *

"I'm just going to say this once to you guys," Cal softly barked at Will and Nene, "Don't even mention anything to her about what's going on between me and Klan." All three of them shared the enormous loveseat in Nene's parents' living room. Of course, Nene was in her Meltran form and sat on one side, while Will and Cal sat on the edge of the cushion on the other side. Their feet dangled over a ten-foot precipice leading down to the floor. Cal appeared to be quite upset and made his reasons immediately known before it was too late to talk about it. "Damn you, Nene. Klan looks _exactly_ like your mother. I'll bet that she takes after her mother in personality too, doesn't she? If I find out you lied to me-"

"What, are you afraid of her? Does that mean you're afraid of Klan too?" Nene chided.

Cal became even more incensed by her semi-sarcastic questions. "N- No! I'd just rather not have to deal with _two_ hot-headed Meltrans. Not only that, but Klan's gonna be _pissed_ if she finds out you dragged me here to meet her mother." He turned to Will and forcefully poked his index finger into Will's chest before continuing, "You owe me **big** for this one, dude."

Nene smiled and turned her face away from Cal, but continued to look at him from the corner of her eye. An inherent smugness could be detected in her voice, "You already act like you know Klan _too_ well. It's almost as if you two are a couple! Did you already forget about the favor I did for you this morning? You still need to tell us how that went, by the way."

Immediately, Cal was bested by Nene's retort. Unable to think of a comeback to defend himself, Cal merely gritted his teeth and forcefully exhaled. He began to look out of the nearby window, focusing his gaze upon something outside.

The living room became quiet again, but there were various sounds of rustling coming from the kitchen area. Nene, Will, and Cal patiently waited in the living room for their company to arrive. There was another couch directly across from the transparent, glass coffee table set in the middle of the furniture arrangement. Several magazines laid on the coffee table, while a single floral arrangement served as the centerpiece. The morning daylight filled the room, while the chirps of birds could be heard outside of the windows.

Eventually, Marjel emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray with a tea set and some breakfast pastries on it. "I'm sorry, boys... I don't have any miclone-sized wares or food, otherwise I'd be able to serve you two something," she said as she cleared a spot on the coffee table and set the tray down. She and Nene both partook of the goodies on the tray.

"That's okay, Ma'am. We'll do just fine," Will said with as much politeness as he could possibly muster. He wanted to make the best first impression as he could.

Cal tried to cheer up a bit before answering. "I just ate anyways, but thank you." Unfortunately, he was absolutely parched from eating the piece of sweetened bread earlier. "_If you knew you couldn't serve us, why the hell did you serve anything at all_?" Cal thought to himself. Already, he was getting annoyed by Klan's mother's behavior. Cal watched Nene pinch off a piece of the pastry and give it to Will, and it immediately reminded him of the same event occurring during his visit with Klan. It was enough to put a bit of a smile on his face, seeing the same behavior between Will and Nene.

After taking the first sip of her tea and swallowing it, Marjel opened up the conversation. "I'm sorry that my husband isn't here; he left for work shortly before you got here. So, which one of you was it that is in love with my daughter?" she asked with a bit of an accusatory voice. She glared at both Will and Cal, waiting for their response. Cal noticed that same flesh-piercing stare that Klan has, but he didn't let it faze him in the least. However, Will was already feeling a bit intimidated.

"Um..." Will stammered, "Which daughter are you referring to?" Suddenly a smirk ran across his face, knowing what it was that he was doing. Cal quickly elbowed him in the ribs, upset that he was already hinting on the connection shared by Cal and Klan. Nene tried not to laugh, but she briefly snickered at Will's response.

Marjel didn't understand what was going on, but it seemed like there was some chicanery at play. "Pardon?" she asked, focusing her glare on the seemingly-insolent miclones sitting on her couch.

Nene nervously laughed out loud to try and come to Will's defense. "Ha ha... He's just kidding, Mom. _This_ is Will," she said, using her opened hand to point him out to her mother.

Marjel raised her eyebrow, having already formed an opinion of Will in her mind. "Oh?" she said while taking another sip from her cup. She swallowed and looked over at Cal. "So, who are _you_?" she asked with the same glare.

Once again, Cal knew how to take the "stare" with poise. His past experiences with Klan helped him form an immunity. "I'm Cal. We all fly together in the same unit. These two insisted on me coming with them to visit you... for what reason, I have no idea," he said with a slight shrug.

"Are you saying that you would rather not be here right now?" Marjel asked.

"No, Ma'am. I'm just here so my esteemed colleague here doesn't feel so out-of-place," Cal amicably responded while patting Will on the back.

Marjel responded with a sense of indifference. "How nice of you..." She then turned her attention back to Will. "So... William, was it...? Tell me a little bit about yourself and why you have chosen to be with my daughter." Her composure resembled that of an aristocrat while she sipped from her teacup once more.

Fortunately, Will had prepared himself for this inevitable question. "Well, I joined the NUNS after completing my pilot training in college. Unfortunately, I didn't finish my studies because I was eager to join up and contribute to the defense of the fleet, since we were constantly under attack by the Vajra." He stopped to gauge Marjel's reaction. She simply nodded, inviting him to continue. "After we were redeployed into space three months ago, I was able to earn a spot in Skull Squadron by performing well in the training exercises. I was placed into the same team with Nene and Cal here, and that's how I met your daughter." Will turned his head and looked up towards Nene next to him and smiled. "Nene and I flew together for several weeks and worked well as a team. Eventually, we just found an attraction to each other. I had no idea that she was attracted to me until she asked me about my relationship status out of the blue. It was at that point that I knew that she was interested. I guess you could say that _she_ chose _me_," Will finished with a laugh. Nene simply smiled in pride.

However, Marjel didn't seem to be terribly impressed. "How come you're still an ensign?" she asked as she inspected the rank insignia on his uniform.

Will was a bit apprehensive to answer, slightly embarrassed that his rank was still so low. "I don't know. Honestly, I'm not really concerned with whatever rank I have. I'm just here to fight and protect."

"How do you plan on protecting my daughter? She needs someone who is strong and capable. Do you think you can fill that position?"

Already, Will could feel the air around him starting to heat up, fueled by the discomfort from such aggressive questioning. "Believe me, I will do whatever it takes to keep your daughter from harm. As a matter of fact, we've been there for each other on several occasions in combat. I save her life, she saves mine... it's a good thing we have going here."

Cal and Nene nodded towards Marjel, hoping that she'd find Will's answer to be of a satisfactory nature. Her eyebrows perked up for a brief moment before she returned to her stoic demeanor. "Hmm... well, that's good. I guess I should be grateful that you were able to protect her up to this point." She continued to keep the same disinterested face while she took another sip of tea. After putting the teacup back down, she continued her assault. "William, I want you to understand that I have high expectations for both of my daughters. We are, after all, pure-blooded Zentraedi."

Following that sentence, Will began to feel more out-of-place, despite having Cal sitting right next to him. Marjel continued to fixate her gaze upon the now-sheepish Will when she heard Cal speak out instead. "So?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I should have kept my comment to myself. I am, after all, a guest in your house," Cal responded. He tried to be cordial, but his disapproval over her words was evident.

Fortunately for him, Marjel let it go. "Anyway, there are certain family traditions that you need to be aware of, William. I'm concerned that you won't be able to fulfill them in a proper fashion."

Both Will and Nene appeared whipped and disappointed. However, neither of them would respond to Marjel's monologue. Already, she was asserting herself as the dominant force in the room and Cal was witness to everything that was going on. Even Nene seemed compelled to follow her mother's wishes, whatever they may be.

Cal gave Will a slight shove onto his shoulder. "Say something, dude!" Will stammered, but could barely look Marjel straight in the eye while she spoke to him.

"I'm sure that you love my daughter with all of your heart and she seems to be happy with you. I just wanted you to know that there are certain expectations that I'm afraid you might not be able to meet," Marjel said with some disappointment on her face. Cal continued to gape in amazement while he watched Nene and Will accept Marjel's words as the absolute, irrefutable truth.

Suddenly, his voice interrupted the conversation again. "Wait, wait, wait... You're actually saying that you don't approve because he's not a Zentran, right?"

Marjel became intrigued by this verbal resistance coming from Cal, a miclone. She shifted in her chair to orient herself in his direction before she replied. "That's not what I said."

"But it's what you _meant_. Just say it!" Cal demanded. After a moment, he placed faced his palms forward in a gesture to calm the situation down. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to get upset. It's just that I don't like it when people can't just say what they mean. Again, I'm gonna butt out of this conversation because I'm trying to be respectful to you, Ma'am." He then turned his gaze towards the window, watching the birds outside.

Having already given him a free pass, Marjel was now getting upset that this miclone had come into her house and called her out on something she was saying. "No, no... I want to hear what you have to say. Continue...!" she said with noticeable frustration and anger in her voice. She definitely was not used to being talked to like this; especially from a miclone... and one with a rank far below the one she held when she was still actively serving in the NUNS.

Cal turned back towards her and fixed his gaze back into her eyes. It was the best way to let her know that he wasn't at all intimidated by her; it had worked against Klan several times. "Alright..." he said as he stood up on the couch cushion, "You have no idea what your daughter and Will have gone through together, and yet you already have decided that he's not the right person for her. Based on your previous actions and statements, I think that you just don't like the fact that your daughter is in love with a Human."

"Previous actions? What did I do?"

"You brought tea and pastries out specifically for yourself and Nene, knowing full well that you would not be able to serve us in the same fashion. The _proper_ thing to do would have been to either ask us if we didn't mind first, or just not serve anything at all! But that's not what you did, you just went ahead and brought out your stuff, assuming that we didn't care."

Nene immediately stood up from her seat. "Okay! I think it's about time we got out of here, don't you?" she said with a nervous laugh.

Will began to tug at Cal and drag him away from his spot on the couch. Unfortunately, Cal felt compelled to stay and prove his point. "Lemme go!" he said as he jerked his arm out from Will's grip. He then turned to Nene and began to scold her. "I _told_ you that this would happen, didn't I? You lied and said that she's nothing like Klan, but here we are... I think you should stay and watch what happens, since this was your idea." Cal began to shake his head, "Nuh-uh! I won't let her sit there and talk to you two like that." He then turned his gaze back towards Marjel, who was now a bit surprised at Cal's intensity over the matter. Not only that, but she was intrigued by his mentioning of her other daughter.

"Oh, so you've met my other daughter, huh? How did that turn out for you?" she asked with sarcasm in her voice.

Cal confidently answered, "It turned out just fine, I'll have you know..."

"Well, since you're still standing today, I guess I will have to take your word for it, then."

"Damn straight," Cal barked.

Marjel then stood up from her seat and approached Cal with her arms crossed. "So, I have this miclone come into my house and tell me that I don't have the right to determine who I want my daughter to be with, is that correct?"

Cal still refused to waver, much like he'd done with Klan in the past. He looked way up at Marjel's face while she tried to intimidate him even more by towering over him. "That's right. You care more about your family tradition than you do about your own daughter's happiness. Even though you tried to be subtle about it, you made it pretty obvious to me what it was that you were trying to say."

"I'll have you know that I am a retired captain of the NUNS. I don't appreciate being talked to like that by a mere... first lieutenant," Marjel said as she bent over to glare at his rank insignia. She then looked Cal up and down before scoffing and standing straight up again.

Cal adjusted his attitude a bit before answering, "I am aware of your previous career in the NUNS and I can confidently say that I have respect for you and your contributions to the military, Ma'am. However, this is something of a more personal nature that has nothing to do with your service nor mine. So, with all due respect, I must insist that your re-evaluate your opinion."

Marjel became more frustrated with every exchange. Every one of her rebuttals had systematically been disarmed by Cal, leaving her with little to continue to use as a defense. "Re-evaluate my-? Why, I oughta..." she said as she reared back and seemed to be on the brink of losing her temper.

Suddenly, Nene stepped in and grabbed her mother's arms. "Mom!" she yelled. She then slowly transitioned to her usual calm nature. "He's right. I can't let you dictate how I run my life. I love you very much, Mom, but I won't let you get between myself and the man I love," she said, looking down at Will on the couch. Will was surprised, and at the same time proud, that Nene was now willing to put him in front of her own mother's wishes.

"Nene...!" Seeing the sincerity and seriousness of her daughter's demeanor, Marjel began to calm down. She took a deep breath and put her arms down to the side. She then glared at Cal before speaking again, "You've got guts kid, I'll give you that. That doesn't mean that you're completely off the hook just yet, though. You watch yourself, you got that?" she said, pointing her finger in a scolding gesture. She then returned to her seat and picked up her teacup again.

Cal managed to assume a more stoic demeanor, taking his seat on the edge of the couch cushion once more. "Ma'am, I have the utmost respect for the Zentraedi people. I just don't like it when I hear about people forming prejudices against the other race, when in fact, we are essentially the same. For fifty years, we've been able to live in peace together and I couldn't be more proud of the fact that many of us hold each other in such high regard. Solidarity is divisive and only leads to disharmony and hatred. If we continue to see each other as different races, we'll never truly be at peace with each other."

Will grabbed Cal's shoulder and shook him a bit. "That was beautiful, dude... thanks!"

"I have my moments..." Cal nonchalantly replied, with a touch of his signature cockiness.

Marjel took another sip from her cup. "Well-put..." she said with a hint of smugness. Regardless, she still seemed disinterested.

…

Ranka sat nervously in her chair as she looked around the room. She was surrounded by many government officials and high-ranking military personnel, each of whom sat in their own chairs around the enormous table in the room. Of all of the people in the room, she only recognized President Mulcahy and Fleet Admiral Perry. However, she had Sheryl and Brera sitting to her left and right. Once she noticed neither of them were unfazed by the amount of top brass in the room, she finally exhaled and did her best to put on a confident composure. By the time she got over her initial fears, the meeting had already begun.

One of the officers in the room had been assigned to manage the meeting and continued explaining the purpose of this gathering. "As you all know, we have convened here to discuss the dangers that the Galaxy fleet poses to our colony. Our deployed fleet was nearly annihilated when it came under attack by a combined force of Galaxy and Vajra ships. Fortunately with the help of some unlikely allies, our fleet survived the attack." The officer turned towards Ranka and Sheryl. "It is because of this development that we have brought you here to attend this meeting. Ranka, Sheryl, we are hoping that we can count on you to help us once more."

Sheryl stood up to give an answer, but she wasn't going to be as succinct as everyone expected. "Before we agree to anything, I want to point out that we're already doing our best to contribute to the cause. We've made sure that our focus is to support the NUNS by holding benefit concerts for the troops and encouraging the citizens to lend their support as well. What more can we possibly do at this point?" Somehow, you could almost sense that she already knew the answer, but she was just saying things to make herself and Ranka look a little better in front of the meeting's attendees.

"We are well aware of your recent work and everyone here is appreciative of it. However, we have reason to believe that you both can do this colony an immeasurable good once more," the officer said. After pausing for a moment, he continued, "Based on the information gathered at the end of the battle that took place a few days ago, we believe that you both can be more effectively used as a medium with which to communicate with the Vajra. We already know that you can, um... 'speak' with them on some level. It is our understanding that they were somehow influenced to assist our soldiers during the conflict with the Galaxy-Vajra fleet. Those Vajra who were not directly under Galaxy's control reacted to your songs and fought side-by-side with our own forces."

Sheryl was still trying to play a little bit of hardball. Years of working in the recording industry has formed a strong negotiator's spirit within her. "How do you know it was _us_? It was very early in the morning and we were probably still sleeping."

The officer at the front of the room smirked as the projection screen behind him began to playback a recording the fold wave spectrum analysis during the battle. "Sheryl, we know it was you both. We're not here to demand anything from either of you. We're here to request your assistance, since there is nobody else on this planet who can do what both of you are capable of doing."

Ranka barked at Sheryl ever-so-slightly, "Sheryl, just let them get to their point. I'm sure that nobody in this room wants to be in here all day."

Sheryl looked back at Ranka before slowly sinking back into her chair. After folding her hands together on the table's surface, she finally replied to the request. "Okay, what did you have in mind?"

One of the other officers who sat at the table interjected with a question. "Perhaps you two can enlighten us on the nature of your abilities. We are hoping that you are capable of filling certain 'roles' for our plan."

Ranka quickly began to answer, being the one who probably understood the nature of their condition better than Sheryl. "Well, the microbes that inhabit my intestinal tract have formed a symbiotic relationship with me. The V-type virus was created by the Vajra, in an effort to 'infect' people of other races. This intention was not meant to be malicious, but it consistently caused premature death in all of the hosts. Their true intentions are actually quite benevolent; they only wish to learn how to communicate with other races. Since their level of consciousness is completely different than ours, they had no way of directly communicating with us. This is where the V-type virus comes in. Initially, it only allowed me to 'feel' their emotions, but as time went by, I began to unknowingly communicate with them. As it turns out, the virus is meant to bridge the gap between our races. Because of our conflict with them in the past, they have learned that we operate as individuals, rather than as a whole, collective consciousness."

"With all due respect, we already know of the virus's purpose from the xenobiology reports we've read. What we really need to know is what exactly are you capable of doing? Can you learn to directly communicate with the Vajra collective?" another officer asked.

Ranka sighed while she deliberated the answer. She already knew what the truth was, but she was not sure that she should make things more publicly aware. She glanced over to Sheryl, who simply nodded in response. Finally, she looked back to the rest of the room and answered. "Yes, I can already communicate with them at a fluent level." The room began to fill with gasps and murmurs; this appeared to be good news for everyone.

The officer at the front of the room took the floor once more and asked the next question. "Why is it that we cannot duplicate this type of communication using computers? Some of our best scientists have dedicated the last few months in an attempt to mimic what you seem to have accomplished all on your own."

Ranka and Sheryl looked at each other and chuckled. Ranka had an easy answer to give, "Because you need emotion." The officers and government officials looked at each other with puzzled expressions on their faces. Ranka knew that she had to give a more elaborate explanation. "Simply put, you must have real emotions in order to channel your feelings and thoughts to the Vajra. Unfortunately, since the infection has always been lethal up to this point, nobody has been able to prove this fact. What makes me different than the others is that the infection was amazingly passed to me _in vitro_. All previous attempts failed, but the one that led to my birth succeeded."

"What does that mean?"

"...That it's next to impossible to successfully infect a patient with the V-type virus, and have them achieve symbiosis with the microbes," Ranka concluded.

Sheryl watched Ranka's delivery and seemed satisfied with the result of the exchange. "_So you've learned how to properly sell yourself to those who need your talents_," she thought to herself while she smiled.

"So, you're both able to communicate with the Vajra consciousness?"

"No, only I can," Ranka replied, "Sheryl's infection is not as advanced as mine is."

Sheryl began to sink in her chair with a feeling of inadequacy. Before Ranka could say any more, she stood up and interjected, "It seems that the nature of my infection is different because it was artificially introduced into my body and control was attempted using Galaxy's biological and pharmaceutical technologies. Now that I no longer live in that colony, I have been cut off from those resources. The only thing that is keeping the infection from becoming fatal within me is Ranka. However, I am determined to beat the odds on this, no matter what."

More murmurs began to fill the room before Admiral Perry decided to say something. "Thank you for your input, ladies. I think we have enough information to make an informed decision. Please remember, don't discuss anything from this meeting until we contact you again. We will let you know if and when we need your help."

The officer who was leading the meeting moved the subject into a different direction. "The other reason we called you here is to gain some insight into what might be going on in Galaxy's colony ships. Questions have been presented that are making us reconsider our original strategy. What we want to know is whether or not the citizens of Galaxy are aware of what is going on. Brera Sterne, as a former citizen and soldier in the Galaxy colony, we were hoping that you could shed some light onto the situation for us."

Brera calmly looked around before standing up to answer the officer's questions. "From my perspective, it might be unique to the rest of the populace. I was a soldier, and was therefore mandated to accept cybernetic enhancements to my body. Ultimately, these implants made me into something of a slave to those who were in charge. Had I known of the true cost, my free will, I would have denied them." Brera forcibly exhaled before he moved into the other part of his reply. "Unfortunately, the Galaxy Government managed to pass the resolution some time ago that mandated implants into all citizens. Even though the resolution was voted upon, even I still wondered if there wasn't any foul play involved. Regardless of my implants, I did retain some of my autonomy and during my moments of humanity, I could tell that the people did not want this."

"Well, can you elaborate on this 'foul play'? Are you saying that the polls were fixed?"

"Yes, but I cannot prove it. That's not how it all started. All it took was for the right people to be in the right places at the right time. Once the proponents of implants gained majority in the congressional body and presidential offices, there was little to stop them from achieving their ultimate goal: full-on cybernetic enslavement. Initially, it was a little here, a little there. Eventually, the administration started taking huge bites out of the public's power, disguising it as simply removing life's little inconveniences. It was once said by a famous historical figure from Earth's antiquity, 'Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both'. Before we knew it, we were literally being protected from ourselves; the mantra of the elitist politician."

Suddenly, President Mulcahy seemed to have a connection with this. With wide eyes, he interjected, "It's just like they taught us in political sciences. People can be easily manipulated if they are offered something for nothing and when they are not informed of the truth of things. It's a textbook maneuver in the radical revolutionist's manual. If you make the people dependent on the government and restrict the amount of information that they are given, they will never learn to be self-sufficient and make decisions on their own."

"That's one way to put it," Brera responded. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that the people of Galaxy do not know of what is going on outside of their colony ships. Grace O'Connor and her cybernetic oligarchy do not intend to relinquish their power and crave for more every day. It's only unrestricted human nature to want to be in control of everything around them. Most people know how to find their place in a society, but some people feel compelled to be able to influence everyone and everything."

While this was going on, Sheryl began to sink into her chair more and more. Her hair hung in front of her face, masking the emotional response that was occurring within her at that very moment. "All those people, unable to live their lives the way they choose? How could this happen? I spent so much time away from the colony during my tour, I hadn't realized that all this could happen so fast." A couple of tears streamed down her cheeks after she winced her eyes closed.

President Mulcahy knew exactly what was going on and he nodded his head in response to Sheryl's reaction. "It doesn't take long, that's for sure. You fight hard to gain and maintain freedom, but it can all be lost so easily. All it takes is for people to stop paying attention to politics. One technique that radicals use is to have the media distract the population from real life. When the people care more about the trivial things than they do their government, the corrupted will always use the opportunity to seize power. The only thing that can stop them is the public, so they seek to disarm them of their power by spreading misinformation and using distraction tactics. It's all a bunch of smoke and mirrors."

The room fell silent, following the President's words. It appeared that the rest of the room felt pity for the citizens of Galaxy, but at least they had the power to try and do something about it. Admiral Perry turned to the President and they both nodded to each other with determined looks on their faces.

Suddenly, Mulcahy shot up from his chair. "Alright! Even though the citizens of Galaxy are unable to do anything to help themselves at this point, _we_ can! As free citizens, we stand in the way of the Galaxy oligarchy's ambitions. It's our **duty** to protect those who are unable to protect themselves," he said as he pounded his fist onto the table. "Sheryl, Ranka, Brera, thank you for your input. We have a lot of work to do and we will let you know what we need your help with as soon as we are done formulating our plan."

It didn't take long for the trio to get up from their chairs and exit the room. Once the doors closed and they had their privacy once again, the meeting attendees began to clamor with each other on what to get working on first.

Sheryl, Ranka, and Brera seemed physically beat as they turned the corner to meet up with the rest of their friends. Alto, Luca, and Nanase patiently waited in the lobby, each of them seated on the couches centered around a single glass table in the middle. It was good for them to see their friends once more, but they knew that there was an air of uncertainty surrounding the upcoming events.

"So, tell us what happened in there!" Nanase inquired.

Ranka hung her head slightly as she answered, "We're not allowed to say..."

…

Several hours passed and the Coral star's light was beginning to take on the familiar orange hue of the evening sky. Cal and Will had met up again to discuss the day's events, at Will's behest.

"Cal, I just wanted to say that if you hadn't come with us to Nene's parents'..." he stopped to consider what he was saying and hung his head for a moment. "Well, I don't know what might have happened. The fact of the matter is that you did what neither Nene nor I could do. Now I know where Klan gets her stubbornness from! I do _not_ envy you at all, dude..." Will put his arm around Cal as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Don't worry about Nene's mother. She may not approve of you being with Nene, but that just means that you will get to prove your worth. She's just going to have to get used to it." Unfortunately, Cal was partially distracted while he spoke to Will. Some of it was due to his mind wandering back to his encounter with Marjel, and that invariably led to the issues that he might run into if Klan decides to do what he hopes she'll do. The other part of his distraction seemed to float above his head, literally.

"What are you looking at?" Will asked as he peered into the sky above them.

Cal quickly snapped back to the present, having been tracking something with his eyes. "Sorry, it's just that... You ever get that feeling that someone's watching you all of the time?" Will just blinked while he stared at Cal. "I could swear that bird has been following me around all day. I started to notice it when I left Klan's place this morning and he was outside of the window at Nene's parents'. Now, I think that's him up there," Cal said, pointing up at a couple of birds who just happened to be flying several meters above them at the time.

Will's expression morphed into one of disbelief. "Cal, you really need to relax. I think your nerves are shot and you should just focus on resting while we're here on Aimo."

"I've got so much to get done while we're here, though. Have we heard exactly how long our stay will be?" Cal asked. Will responded with a shake of his head. Cal then pulled his PDA from off of his hip and checked the time. He clicked his tongue before speaking again. "Damn, it's getting late. I should go check in at the barracks to see if they have any beds left. They won't let anyone back on the Quarter, citing that they're doing maintenance or some such nonsense."

"What...?" Will muttered in disbelief. "Don't you have a place of your own?"

"Hell no. Ever since the colony landed on this rock, I've been in a hospital. By the time I got out, I had already been assigned to a ship. I never had time nor a need to put in a request for housing."

"Dude, do you really think I'm gonna let you stay in those shitty beds at the barracks? Too proud to ask, huh?" Will inquired. Cal now stared at Will while he waited for him to explain whatever the hell he was talking about. "You're a first lieutenant now," Will said as he flicked Cal's rank insignia with his finger. "You don't deserve to live in such inadequacy. You're gonna stay with me at my place, then. I don't have an extra bed, but I have one of those bitchin' instant mattresses you use on camping trips and all that... You can just stay in my living room for the time being."

"Hmm... a bunk in the barracks, or an inflatable mattress in your living room... I don't know which one is better," Cal said while putting his hand up to his chin in a thinking gesture.

"Don't be a jerk, Cal," Will said as he lightly punched Cal in the stomach. "You don't have a choice at this point, so get used to it." He then moved his arm up and grabbed Cal's head in a lock while they walked down the path and towards Will's place. There's only one way to deal with stubborn individuals, and that is to beat the sense into them.


	38. A Day in the Life

A/N: Whew! I'm glad I finally got the chance to finish writing Chapter 41 so I can post 38. It's been over three weeks, but I have good news. After having dealt with some serious crunch-time in my classes this past week, I am now free to pretty much do what I want, outside of work and finishing out the rest of the semester at school. I had three papers to write over the past weekend, but now that those are all done, I got some time to continue writing this story. I will be taking a wintermester class, but it will be an online-only class. That means I can do my assignments pretty much any time I want.

Okay, so the next few weeks should be prime writing time, so I hope to get a handful of chapters done during this time. However, I have a bit of a quandary. Some, if not most, of you know that the Cataclysm expansion is coming out for World of Warcraft on December 7th, and I have just now started to seriously consider picking it up, despite having quit playing WoW back in February to write this story. I want to get the game just for the adventure of leveling from 80 to 85 and checking out the newly-designed world maps. I will have to avoid raiding, because that was the source of my downfall for the few years that I played it constantly. Right now, I'm just thinking about it, but if I do get it, I will have to promise myself that I will only play for, say... one month. Maybe buy a month's worth of subscription and subsequently cancel it, so it won't automatically renew. Perhaps the inconvenience of having to go into my account management will keep me from buying another month's subscription. That way, I can end my subscription just in time for the start of the spring semester at school. If I do get Cataclysm, that means I'll be spending a good portion of my free time playing that, instead of writing. Sigh! Life's full of so many important choices...

Don't worry, regardless of what I choose, I will continue this story until I am done. I have some really awesome story ideas in the pipe (five by five), and I can't wait to get to those parts in the story. It's gonna be fun to write them and I'm sure you all will enjoy reading it when we get there. For now, there's more character development in the story while our ragtag group of pilots enjoy their time off from duty. Enjoy! -(11/27/10)

* * *

A zombie-like Will slowly shuffled out of his bedroom and into the adjacent bathroom in the hallway. After spending a couple of minutes to take care his usual early-morning business, he emerged from the restroom while wiping his face with a towel. Now slightly invigorated, he took care not to make any noise as he entered the kitchen. He began to wonder why the end table lamp was still on; and when he peered over the couch to check on his guest, he noticed that the furniture had been restored to its usual positions. Cal had neatly folded his blanket and deflated air mattress, placing them on one of the couch cushions. A pillow sat leaning against the backside of the couch nearby.

"Huh... I guess he _did_ have a lot to do today," Will told himself while he set the coffeemaker up to brew some wake-up juice. The situation was slightly similar to Cal's experience on the Quarter when they first arrived on Aimo just over a day before.

Far out in the ocean bay, the massive Island-1 colony ship remained moored to the sea floor. Sunlight had just begun to peek over the distant mountain range, striking the memorial hill in Island-1's cemetery. Each headstone represented the memory of a lost civilian, providing a conduit with which those left behind can use to communicate with the passed. Unfortunately, neither science nor theology can confirm that such communication actually works. It still didn't stop people from attempting it, anyway.

Cal chose to remain quiet while he paid respects to his late fiancee. Having already placed some flowers on top of the headstone, he seemed to be lost in his thoughts while he blankly stared forward. Usually, he would be speaking to Marie as if she were standing right in front of him, but this wasn't the case. Cal listened to the birds chirping in the trees and bushes nearby when one of them fluttered down and perched itself on top of Marie's headstone. Cal smiled when he recognized it as a mockingbird. "_There_ you are," he casually said.

As if it was reacting to his greeting, the mockingbird began to trill various calls; that species of bird is notorious for doing so, hence its name.

Surprisingly, Cal began to carry on a conversation with the bird. "I know you've been following me around. I guess it was no use trying to remain out of my sight, huh?"

The mockingbird just remained perched upon the headstone, seemingly chirping directly at Cal. Every few seconds, it would change its call to something completely different.

"I'm not much of a believer in reincarnation, but if it is true, you certainly picked the perfect form," Cal said to the bird. He began to speak again, but it was tough to tell if his words were directed at the bird or towards Marie's headstone. "Well, anyway..." he said with a chuckle, "The last few months have certainly been nothing short of exciting." He took a seat on the pristine grass and continued, "I'm sure that you are aware of most everything that's happened, but I enjoy telling you about it anyway."

The mockingbird had stopped singing while Cal spoke, but as soon as he became quiet again, it loudly trilled a short series of calls.

"Well, I am now a member of an elite squadron in the NUNS. Apparently, I can fly those variable fighters just good enough to earn a spot in the prestigious Skull Squadron. I have been out there flying with some of the best pilots in the fleet. I don't know if you remember him from school, but Will Garrett is one of my wingmen!" Cal let the bird chirp in response for a moment. "I know! It was such a coincidence for he and I to get assigned to the same team. We've become the best of friends and he's even in love with our team leader. She's a Meltran and they seem to be perfect for each other. Cool, huh? Oh, and I even got promoted!" Cal said as he showed off his new rank insignia.

Cal's silence gave way to a long set of calls from the mockingbird. He appeared to be pretending to listen to the bird's calls, taking in every note as if they were whole words being spoken to him.

A good minute passed before Cal began to sink his head ever-so-slightly. "Well, I do have something rather important to talk to you about, though," he said as he looked to the side. "You know that I miss you a lot... but you told me that I should move on with my life and find happiness with another, whenever that happens. I just can't shake this feeling of guilt when I think of being with another, though."

Amazingly, the mockingbird changed its trills to a more sullen and somber tone to match Cal's mood.

"Yes, that means that I may have found someone who means everything to me. The problem is that I still think of you from time to time and it fills my mind with doubt and reserve. I know that's the last thing you want, but it's easier said than done."

Cal began to wince as if he was being hit by an invisible object. The mockingbird had once again changed its call; this time, to a territorial warning. It was as if Cal was being yelled at by the bird.

Cal looked at his hand, where he was rubbing his thumb in a circular motion over his engagement rings. The string that normally held them around his neck now lazily hung from his hand. Finally, he responded to the audible warning that was being cawed his way. "Yeah, I know. The other problem is that I just keep getting the feeling like she's been avoiding me. I know she cares about me, but it's like something is keeping us apart. I don't know what it is... I guess I'm just being overly paranoid," he said with a laugh.

Cal continued to sit and listen to the mockingbird sing its various songs; it seemed to help him find a bit of peace in the moment. Finally, he stood up and gathered his belongings nearby. "Well, I should get going. I know that sometimes I can be incorrigible and you were always there to put foot to ass to get me motivated again. Based on the series of events that have led me here, I get the feeling that this was your intention all along. As long as I keep telling myself that, I know that I can let my mind be at ease. You're still with me in some form or another and you're doing your best to help me find direction in my life as you always have done for me. Thanks for everything, Marie. I won't let you down."

With that, he clenched the rings in his fist and smiled in the direction of the headstone. The mockingbird continued to sing its random trills, signaling its approval of his words. He then turned away and began to walk down the hill towards the cemetery exit. The mockingbird remained perched on the headstone as it watched Cal walk away; its song filling the morning air with liveliness.

…

Cathy casually strolled down the hallway at the Office of the Joint Chiefs on her way to her office. Her step seemed to have an extra bounce to it and she cheerfully hummed a tune to herself. As she approached the reception area, the woman behind the desk greeted her.

"You seem much more lively than usual. Did you get a good night's sleep?" the receptionist asked.

Cathy beamed a huge smile and rolled her eyes upwards as she responded. "If that's what you want to call it!" she said, sharing a laugh with the woman.

"I'm glad you got your Ozma back for at least a little while," the receptionist said as she handed Cathy a few sheets of paper. "Here are a few messages- Oh! You have a visitor waiting for you, too. She said she was your sister or something... I didn't know you had a sister."

Cathy looked slightly confused for a moment and poked her head around the corner to look into the waiting room. A young girl sat in one of the chairs, watching the television set playing on the wall. She wore a tight-fitting knit cap to contain her hair and also wore a pair of glasses, but they appeared to be intended as a disguise. She looked over to Cathy, smiled, and waved. Cathy immediately recognized the girl's maroon-colored eyes and turned back towards the receptionist. "Ah... Don't worry. She's not my sister _yet_, but maybe sometime soon..." Cathy replied.

The receptionist still appeared to be slightly confused, but she bid Cathy a nice day and continued tapping away at her computer.

Cathy led the way to her office and closed the door after her visitor entered the room. "I'm glad you came to visit me, Ranka. What's on your mind?" she asked while she sat down and logged on to the computer on her desk.

Ranka had since removed her disguise elements and neatly placed them on the edge of Cathy's desk in front of her. "It's strange, Cathy. I should be happy now that everyone's back home, but I am getting some strange premonitions in my subconscious. I don't know if it's just me being paranoid, though."

"Why? What is it that's bothering you about all of this?"

"Well, I got called into this huge meeting with a bunch of NUNS officers and government officials. Even the President was there." Ranka turned her view to the side a bit. "I... I'm not supposed to talk about it-"

Cathy quickly interjected, "I know. I wasn't there, but I know all about what was discussed in that meeting." She then picked up a folder that laid on her desk and showed it to Ranka before putting it down again. It was clearly labeled as classified, but the contents within it were unknown to Ranka. She just had to trust that Cathy was authorized to gain privy to the items discussed in the meeting the day before.

"Oh. Well, what's worrying me is that I'm going to get thrown into a situation where I'll be used as a tool to further the endeavors of a small group of people. How do I know that there's not some kind of nefarious intent brewing behind the scenes, Cathy?" Ranka seemed desperate for assurance. The events of the past have given her a slight sense of caution, when it comes to working with the colony leadership.

"Don't worry, sweetie. I will keep an eye on things and make sure that they don't get out of hand. You can trust me when I say that this really is for the best. President Mulcahy is a good man... so is Fleet Admiral Perry. You'll be the first person I tell if I start to suspect anything, okay?" Cathy wore an assuring smile, but in her mind, she resented Leon Mishima's actions several months ago. She almost hated herself for loving him; and also felt slightly inadequate because she couldn't quite stop his agenda from taking fruition. If only she had been a _little_ faster in reacting to the information she was able to gather up in such a short time, her father might still be alive today.

"Alright, I know I can trust you. You are, after all, like a big sister to me." Ranka's face suddenly turned from apprehensive to excited. "Speaking of... have you worked on what we talked about a couple of months ago?" she said in reference to Cathy's desires, when it came to Ozma.

Cathy was initially confused, but quickly figured out what Ranka was talking about. "Hm? Oh, I've been sneaky so far, but I'm about to launch an all-out offensive until he surrenders. Ha ha..." She certainly has a lot on her plate, but there's one thing that's on the top of her priority list. "Have you noticed any erratic behavior out of him lately, by any chance?"

Ranka shook her head. "No, he's still the same hard-headed oaf he has always been. Do you need any help with him? I think I can beat a little sense into him if you want me to..." She balled her fist and shook it in front of her face to show Cathy that she meant business. However, she quickly put her hand back in her lap and laughed at the situation.

Following a short pause, Cathy asked something that was actually bugging her a bit. "So... How are you and Alto getting along? I bet you're excited that he's back, huh?"

"Yeah, I am, but..." Ranka lowered her head a bit, "I was wondering if I could get your opinion." Cathy simply nodded and waited for Ranka to continue. "Sometimes, I feel like he sees me as something of a little sister. It's just the way that he talks to me and reacts to the things I say and do."

"Well, I do see that you two get along really well. I've never seen you two fight over anything, so that's good, right?"

"I guess..."

"Well, that means he's comfortable being around you. What's the problem with that?"

"Yeah, but you know how you get those 'feelings'? My instinct tells me that that's all I'll ever be to him. What do I do?"

Cathy leaned forward and put her hands together in front of her face. "Ranka, you need to get over your self-doubt and apprehension. A man like that is looking for someone who will challenge him from time to time. He will do and say things to just test what he can get away with. It's up to you to make it known to him what you want. If you just keep acting like a little sister around him, that's all he's ever going to see you as." She then leaned back into her chair and put on a wry grin. "Alto reminds me of a young Ozma. I think that's why Ozma kind of likes him. If they're anything alike, that means that he's gonna need someone to be there to keep him in line. Are you up to the task?"

Ranka looked up and tried to hide her smile, but the fact that Cathy was comparing Ozma to Alto was more than enough to make her laugh a bit inside. "Well, I guess if I can handle Ozma, I can handle Alto," she confidently stated.

Just as they were beginning to enjoy the conversation, Cathy heard her computer notify her of a received message. It was clearly labeled "Confidential!" and she excused herself for a moment while she read the letter. Ranka patiently waited, but she noticed Cathy's demeanor slowly change into a serious one. Cathy tried to mask her reaction as she turned to address Ranka. "Hon, it looks like I have something important to take care of. Can we continue this conversation another time? How about I call you later and we can have dinner together or something?"

Ranka was slightly concerned about Cathy's reaction to whatever it was that she had read, but she calmly got up from her chair. "Okay, that's sounds good. Good luck with... uh, whatever it is that you have to do..."

After Ranka left the room, Cathy took her cell phone out of her purse and dialed a number. A few moments passed before the ringing stopped and the sound of someone picking up could be heard on the phone. "Yes, I'm alone. It's safe to talk," she said to the individual on the other side.

…

"Oh, I know how to get to the hangar," Cal cheerfully said to the receptionist in the lobby of the main building at Bell-Casse Dynamics.

Before he could walk two steps, the receptionist stopped him. "No, you don't understand. They're working out of a new hangar that they just completed construction on. I'll call someone who can escort you there."

Cal stopped and looked back at the receptionist with a bit of surprise and confusion on his face. "Oh? That's good news. I guess I _do_ need a guide, then."

Several minutes later, Cal rode in a buggy with the Bell-Casse employee across the company's property until they turned the corner of a building. From there, Cal could see the brand-new hangar shining white in the sunlight. "Wow! It's beautiful!" he remarked.

"There's been a hiring explosion lately and they worked hard to get this new hangar built as quickly as possible. We've been busy as hell in the accounting department, trying to process the surge in bills and invoices going through there."

A door on the corner of the building was dwarfed by the immense size of the new hangar. From a distance, it looked like it was a means for ants to enter and exit the building. Eventually, the two reached the door and passed inside.

"Just wait here. I'll go and find David for you."

"Thanks," Cal said as he tried not to be distracted by the commotion going on throughout the expanse of the new hangar. He slowly drifted towards a more visible area, unable to resist the urge to find out all that's going on.

There were several variable fighters parked in the hangar, each with their own crew diligently working on them. Cal recognized the VF-171 that he had flown on his first day back on duty, but it was also accompanied by a VF-171EX and an RVF-25, just like Cal's. He was surprised to see a 25 making its way into a small military contractor such as Bell-Casse, but seeing as how he was their test pilot and they were planning on making munitions and enhancements to the future mainstay of the NUNS, he should have expected it.

Just as he was about to turn to walk back to the waiting area, Cal could hear an approaching mecha from outside of the opened main hangar doors. After a few moments, a plainly-colored Queadluun Rhea entered the hangar and walked over to near where Cal was standing. Once it came to a rest, the hatch popped open and a male Zentraedi pilot prepared to exit the suit. Suddenly, Cal was startled by a voice from behind.

"I see you managed to survive...!"

Cal whipped around to see David Nguyen in his usual labcoat; he was standing there with his hands in the labcoat's pockets and smiling. "Of course I survived. You didn't think I was going to become cannon fodder out there, did you?" Cal said as he firmly gripped David's hand for a shake.

David was very happy to see Cal again, seeing as how there's been nothing but good news coming from his test pilot. "So, I hear you really liked our toys. I read the report you sent to us last night and everyone's pretty damn happy about the results of the testing."

"I have to say... everything worked magically for me. I can confidently say that the goal of extending the survivability of the RVFs was a complete success... I'm living proof!" Cal joked while tugging the front of his uniform with both of his hands. He turned to watch the Zentran pilot finally climb out from the cockpit of the Rhea. For obvious reasons, it reminded him of something he'd seen done several times in the past few months. "So, what's going on here? You guys got all these new toys and this bitchin' new hangar! I'm actually quite jealous!"

"Well, let's just say that there's been a lot of demand for our latest products, if you know what I mean," David replied with a wink, "There were also some lucrative contracts up for bid, but they required more spacious facilities before the customers would consider us as a contractor. The board of directors was quick to approve construction of this new hangar, since it would most definitely lead to more opportunities for us to land some huge contracts. So far, it's been nothing but exciting news around here."

"I see that! So, you guys have some new toys, including this Rhea. Got yourselves a new test pilot, huh?" Cal asked while pointing sideways towards the Queadluun with his thumb.

"You could say that. Seems that the NUNS has a new Queadluun model coming out soon and there's a few contracts for new weaponry and subsystems to install into it. Even though we've cooperated with LAI on several of our projects, it looks like we might be able to slug it out with the big boys on this scale of defense contracting. We're competing over a couple of the same projects right now, as a matter of fact."

Cal began to chuckle to himself while he listened to David talk about the "new" Queadluun and about LAI.

David was curious to know why Cal found this funny. "Why are you laughing?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Cal replied. Cal was thinking about how he flew in the same squadron as one of the heirs to the LAI corporation, Luca Angelloni. Unbeknownst to David, he was also thinking about how he knew the new Queadluun's test pilot on a bit more than just a personal basis. However, it was probably not a good idea to talk about it, for fear of revealing classified information to a civilian contractor.

David didn't really feel like prying a response out of Cal, and instead introduced the new Zentraedi test pilot to Cal as the pilot approached them both.

"Hi, David. Who's the uniform?" the pilot asked of the miclone engineer standing in front of him. The giant knelt down to reach as personal of a level as his stature allowed.

"This is Lieutenant Calvin Wagner. We just call him 'Cal' around here, so feel free to do so if you wish. He's been a test pilot for us since almost the beginning. Right now, he's combat-testing some toys for the variable fighters for us," David replied.

"_You're_ Cal Wagner? I've heard a bunch of stories from the guys around here. Everyone seems to speak highly of you. I'm honored to finally meet you in person!" he said as he extended his hand forward. Unfortunately, it was a bit awkward for both the pilot and Cal, since the pilot was several times larger.

With some apprehension, Cal put his hand out between the giant's thumb and index finger, allowing him to squeeze it with extreme caution. "Um... They exaggerate," he replied with a nervous laugh before he was allowed to retract his hand. He instinctively checked both sides of his hand before putting it back down. "Sorry, it's just that I've never shaken hands with a full-sized Zentran before," he replied when he noticed a look of confusion on the pilot's face. Just as he said that, he began to realize that he hadn't really physically interacted with any full-sized Zentran, outside of an occasional physical contact with Klan. Seeing as how he had spent so much time around her in the last couple of months, it was a bit sad that he was still uncomfortable when physically interacting with someone who towers over him in height. "...and your name is...?"

"Oh! I'm sorry!" the Zentran replied, "I'm Cale Grimm."

"Nice to meet you, Cale." Cal replaced his apprehension with amicability before he spoke to the Zentran pilot again. "Well, good luck with your new job. I'd put my full trust into these guys, if I were you. They're all good people!" The Zentran smiled and nodded in acknowledgment before Cal and David walked away.

As they began to approach the RVF-25 parked in the hangar, David initiated the business-end of their conversation. "So, it seems that the testing phase is now over for some of the countermeasures you were testing. The NUNS has put in some orders for mass-production of the flashbang and fold-magnetic chaff, but only on a limited-deployment basis." David stopped for a moment when he noticed a look of slight disappointment on Cal's face over the news. "No, that's good! It's not unusual for the military to be a bit hesitant when it comes to buying up new technologies. They'll eventually get over their 'shyness' and start to loosen their purse strings. I'm not worried about it in the least."

David's reaction was well-received by Cal and a smile finally returned to his face. "I'm just glad to have been a part of the team again. It looks like you guys are doing _very_ well without me hanging around. Maybe I should stop giving you a hard time about being such a huge nerd," he said with a wry grin.

David laughed before responding, "When I was growing up, my mother always told me that even though I got beat up all the time by the bullies in school, that I would be their boss someday. I didn't believe it at the time, but now that I think about it, she was kind of right!" They both shared a laugh while they watched a couple of technicians working on the RVF-25. "Look, Cal... I'm not going to beat around the bush about it," David said as he put a hand on Cal's shoulder, "We wouldn't be enjoying this success if it wasn't for you and Marie. Her wonderful mind gave birth to much of what we have here, and your passion for your job and the excellence of your piloting skills has given us the means to produce a finished product worthy of adulation from the NUNS."

It was hard for Cal to not let David's words stroke his ego at least a little bit. However, he was able to accept the compliments with poise. "It's been nothing but good times, old buddy," he replied, "I do have some requests for you guys, though. I've had a couple of um... 'issues' come up out there in combat, and I was hoping you might be able to come up with something to help me out."

"Sure, pal. What did you have in mind?"

Cal turned to look at the RVF-25 parked in front of them. He nodded to the RVF as he began to make his request, "The 25 is an incredible machine. LAI has outdone themselves on the production of this baby, but I am beginning to notice a glaring design flaw that's holding back its maximum performance."

These words captured every bit of David's attention, seeing as how he was beginning to see LAI as a competitor to Bell-Casse. Juicy tidbits of information such as the one Cal was ready to give could mean another opportunity to create a better product and capture some more market share for the company.

"The ISC and EX-gear systems work really well together to absorb the g-forces the pilot has to deal with while piloting. However, I've managed to get to the point where I can fly that machine beyond the capabilities of those systems. While I was in combat with a 27-gamma, I literally lost control of my own body, due to the g-forces wreaking havoc on me," Cal stated with the right volume level, so as not to clue anyone else in on his revelations.

Looking at David, you could almost see the gears turning in his mind and a light pop on over his head, even though there was nothing physically located above his cranium. "Wait, wait... you mean to tell me that their highly-touted ISC/EX-gear combo is still not enough to close the gap between pilot and plane performance? When the 25 was formally announced, they bragged about how their design was the ultimate in boosting human capabilities to meet the machine's capabilities." David put his hand up to his chin as he thought about this for a moment. "That gives me an idea. Follow me."

The two made their way through the hallway of offices built inside of the hangar until they reached David's new office. As Cal looked around, he noticed a model of the Macross Quarter sitting on a table on one side of the room. "Quarter...!" he quietly exclaimed.

David stopped walking and noticed Cal's attention was focused on the model. "Um, whoops... you're not supposed to see that," he said with a nervous laugh. David threw a light sheet over the table to cover up the schematics and the model that laid on the table.

However, Cal was able to recognize some of the mathematics and crude drawings scribbled out on the whiteboard above the now-covered table. Upon realizing what was going on, he simply grinned and reassured David. "Don't worry, I didn't see anything."

David looked at Cal for a moment before sitting down at his desk to type something out on his computer. "Anyway, we're supposed to notify the manufacturer if we find a flaw in a product. I'm going to contact LAI to discuss this issue with them and see if we can't get you something to try out as a fix. Nobody has bothered to touch the ISC/EX-gear system, since it was previously deduced that there was no point in improving them. If the VF's frame can't handle more g-forces than the pilot, there's no point in improving the ISC/EX-gear. However, one of my engineers has been tinkering with the EX-gear, in preparation for the next generation fighter. Even though it will probably be at least ten years before the 25 is eclipsed as the top-performance fighter available, it never hurts to be prepared."

An idea popped into Cal's head. "David," he said as he waited for the typing to stop, "I can think of someone who will work as a great intermediary to handle this issue."

As if David could read Cal's mind, the same idea popped into his mind as well. "Oh yeah! What was his name...?" David said as he repeatedly snapped his finger and winced to come up with the answer, "Luca... Angelloni!" Seeing Cal smile in reaction, David knew that he was right. "Yes, that's a great idea. I'll type up this letter and you can give it to him. Hopefully, we can get something to you quickly by working with your squadron mate." David was already familiar with Luca, since he had authorized Luca to carry the same countermeasures that Cal was testing.

While Cal stood there waiting for David to finish his letter, his PDA chimed from an incoming message. After reading it, he sighed and typed in a quick reply before sending it back.

David continued to stare at his screen while typing, but he decided to say something in response to Cal's reaction. "That your woman, or something?"

Cal put his PDA back onto his hip as he replied, "No, but a good friend, nonetheless. Looks like I am expected company for lunch today and I don't have a choice in the matter."

"Well, take this with you and give it to our esteemed colleague, Mr. Angelloni, while you're out," David said as he grabbed the printed letterhead just as it exited the printer on his desk.

…

Even though there were many patrons nearby, Cathy and Ozma seemed to enjoy their lunchtime together; ignoring the bustling activity going on around them. The happy couple sat in the center of a well-lit terrace somewhere in the Folmo Mall, while surrounded by other customers and the occasional waiter walking by. Farther in the background, Zentraedi shoppers went about their business. Some of them would pass by near the terrace, but most were oblivious to the goings-on at the restaurant.

Cathy finished her bite and used the cloth napkin in her lap to wipe her mouth just before she continued with their conversation. "I must admit, though... I do have a bit of an ulterior motive to joining you for lunch," she said with a slightly nervous laugh. Ozma didn't even flinch, he just smiled as he waited for her to spill it out. She sighed and became a bit more serious before speaking again. "I've been keeping an eye out for any opportunities that you might be interested in taking a part in."

The very notion seemed to tickle Ozma a bit. "Opportunities?" he asked with a slight laugh.

"Well, I mean for your career. You've been leading Skull Squadron for a long time now and I figured you might show some interest in progressing to a more challenging role. I had some ideas to discuss with you, if you're interested..." Cathy said, looking off to the side to show a little bit of nonchalance. It was a move designed to make Ozma chase her suggestion.

He had a slight idea as to what she was getting at. Leaning forward over the table and propping his head up with his hands, he responded, "Why, Cathy, are you trying to clip my wings so I don't fly off again?"

Ozma's answer actually took Cathy by surprise. She shot backwards into her chair and blushed ever-so-slightly. "No! Do you really think I'm stupid enough to make the same mistake twice? I almost lost you forever the last time I tried such a thing!" Ozma didn't even flinch and she calmed down once more. "I just wanted to open some doors for you and see if anything looks enticing."

"Okay, I just had to make sure," Ozma said with an evil chuckle, "It will take a lot to make me want to give up flying, you know. Doing combat evaluations for the 25 has been the highlight of my career, to be honest."

Suddenly, Cathy remembered something extremely pertinent to Ozma's words. "Well, that's interesting that you say that. It appears that LAI is ready to enter contract negotiations for the mass-production of the 25. The NUNS has shown interest in deploying the 25 as a special-ops fighter. The 171EX's performance is currently sufficient to meet their needs, as far as the mainstay fighter goes. However, if things go through with the contract negotiations, we're going to be seeing some 25s showing up in more regular use. They're going to need someone to train new pilots, you know..." Cathy looked up into the corner of her field of vision while wearing a nonchalant smile. Perhaps this is what she meant by "opportunity".

Unfortunately for her, Ozma seemed to be uninterested. The position of commander of Skull Squadron had grown on him. "Hmph. So, what else is going on in Cathy-Land? I'd like to know what it is that you've been doing all this time. Any other interesting rumors you've managed to dig up?"

"Well, there is this one thing..." Cathy said as she looked downwards onto the table and lowered her voice, "I got a message from one of my 'informants' today. The information he gave to me was actually quite disturbing." Cathy then looked around to see if anyone was watching, and leaned forward towards Ozma. "I tell you what. We should discuss this in a more private setting later. I may need your help on this again."

Ozma was surprised at Cathy's concerted effort at remaining secretive. "'Again'?"

Just then, the waiter approached the table and handed Cathy the tip tray with a receipt on it. "I just need your signature here, Ma'am," he said, handing her a pen.

Ozma quickly glanced at the check, but noticed that it looked more like a finely-printed contract of sorts. Already, his instincts were telling him that something wasn't quite as it seemed here.

After signing the "check", Cathy handed the waiter his pen and the tip tray. The waiter then gently grasped Cathy's hand and pulled it closer to himself so he could kiss the backside of her hand. "We thank you for your patronage, Miss. We hope to see you both here again real soon."

Ozma was immediately filled with a sense of jealousy upon seeing this very personal gesture from some anonymous waiter. However, when he saw Cathy retract her hand, he could see that she immediately placed a shiny object into her uniform's pocket.

Cathy casually smiled at Ozma. "Ready to go?"

Ozma got up from his chair and began to walk towards the restaurant exit alongside Cathy. He couldn't help but make a comment over the exchange that had just taken place. "They sure are extra friendly with you at this restaurant, aren't they?" he said with a wry grin.

"Shh!" Cathy shushed him as she jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

Ozma slightly grunted upon receiving the blow, but tried not to grimace. He then felt Cathy grab his hand and put hers into his. At that point, they looked like a normal couple leaving a restaurant. Ozma knew that she'd eventually clue him in as to what she's up to and just kept on smiling. However, he recognized someone at the restaurant and tugged Cathy into their direction. "Hang on. I see someone I would like to hassle a bit."

Just as they both approached a table where two patrons sat chatting with each other, Ozma interrupted them. "What's going on _here_? Wagner, I didn't know you and Wentz were so close."

Cal and Jen were surprised by Ozma's sudden appearance and shot up from their chairs to salute the superior officers standing next to their table. They both stammered to deny what Ozma had already assumed, "No, it's not like that." Nervous smiles crept across their faces while they attempted to deal with the situation.

However, Cal quickly recognized Cathy from when he had been interviewed by her several months before that moment. "Holy crap... It's _you_!" He took a moment to recall her name, since it had been a little while. "Um... Commander Glass, that's right. It's so good to see you again!"

Ozma was feeling a bit confused, since he was out of the loop once more. "You two know each other?" he asked.

"She's the one who basically put me on this career path. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be standing here today," Cal put it succinctly. Of course, he did leave out the details and _maybe_ he was embellishing a bit, but he was pretty excited to see Cathy again.

She simply laughed and turned to Ozma. "He's exaggerating... I simply assigned him to the position in which I felt he would be most useful." She then turned back to Cal. "You did the rest on your own. By the way, congratulations on your recent promotion," she said. It seems that as usual, Cathy is well-aware of the ebbs and flows within the NUNS.

"Thanks. All the same though, I owe you a debt of gratitude. The last few months have been an incredible journey. I could go on all day telling you all about it..." Cal said as he took Cathy's hand to express his gratitude.

Before he could do anything more, Ozma shifted forward a bit and smacked Cal's hand. "Okay, enough of that. Get your own girlfriend, Wagner," he said with a bit of sternness, but pridefully smiling. All of this attention being directed towards Cathy was starting to get on his nerves a bit. First, it was the waiter, now it's one of his own pilots.

Jen had been quiet up until now, but she decided to lighten the situation by introducing herself. "Hi, I'm Lieutenant Jennifer Wentz. I understand that I replaced you as Quarter's FCO, Commander," she said to Cathy, "Bobby and Company have told me a lot of stories about you, so I can only imagine the kind of shoes I've had to fill for the past few months." It was easy to tell that Cathy and Jen seemed to have an instant rapport with each other.

"Yes, they already told me everything they could about you, Lieutenant. It seems that we have quite a bit in common, according to them," Cathy casually replied. Almost as if they could read each other's minds, they both sat down at the table, leaving Ozma and Cal standing there to stare at each other while the two ladies decided to talk about whatever they could think of at that very moment.

Ozma smiled at Cathy and Jen, seeing how quickly the two of them appeared to get along. With a slight chuckle, he turned to Cal to initiate a conversation. "I might as well get some business out of the way while we wait..." he said, "I haven't been able to find out your address while we're here on Aimo. There's no record of your lodgings anywhere. Where have you been staying?"

"Well, I _was_ going to stay at the barracks on the base, but Will- I mean, Ensign Garrett insisted that I stay at his place," Cal laughed as he continued, "I suppose sleeping on his living room floor has a certain... charm to it."

"Ahh... How come you don't have a place of your own- Oh wait, you were in the hospital the whole time you were on Aimo, weren't you?"

Cal started to feel a bit inadequate upon realizing that he had not even gotten a chance to start his new life on Aimo before he was deployed again. "Yeah, my home went down in flames with the colony islands several months ago when we tried to purge the Vajra from their homeworld. I'm basically wearing all that I own, along with the contents of my duffel bag. Since leaving the hospital, I've only been able to call the Quarter my 'home'."

"Well, if you need a place to stay, I have an extra room with a _real_ bed at my place if you're interested..."

"That's okay. I guess I don't really mind at all. Thanks, though!" Cal said with sincerity.

"I'll let the offer stand, if you happen to change your mind, then." Ozma shifted to his next subject, "Did you get your request in to customize your bird's colors yet?"

"Yes, Sir. The techs told me they'd have it done this afternoon. I was planning on going back to the Quarter to work on my RVF for a bit and to see the results of the paint job," Cal replied.

"What colors did you decide upon?"

Cal laughed as he answered, "Oh... heh. You'll have to see it for yourself."

Before Ozma could badger Cal for a straight answer, Cathy looked upwards to him from her seat at the table. "Ozma, we should get going. Are you two men going to stand there and talk all day?" she said with a hint of jocularity in her voice. She turned to Jen, who was still sitting across from her, "I swear, men... They never shut up, do they?" She rhetorically asked. Jen laughed and agreed.

Cal turned to Ozma, after laughing a bit at Cathy's remarks. "Damn, Commander. You got yourself a good woman there. Make sure you don't let her get away."

Ozma angrily folded his as he replied to Cal, "Are you giving me an order, Lieutenant?"

Cathy interjected before Cal could get himself into trouble with one of his smartass remarks. "**Yes**, Ozma... you make sure that you don't let me get away. I can think of some ways to make sure that I will always remain at your side," she said as she began to drag him away.

Cal felt Ozma's piercing gaze; a retaliation for getting Ozma into a bit of a difficult situation with Cathy. Cal winced a bit and practically emoted a "sorry!" to Ozma while he watched his commanding officer get a stern talking-to from Cathy.

…

While the afternoon sun had just begun to approach the horizon line, Cal confidently stood on the flight deck of the Quarter. The natural sunlight was already beginning to take on an orange hue, slightly changing the colors of everything it illuminated. The flight deck was somewhat crowded, with several other VFs parked nearby. However, Cal chose to remain quiet while he proudly inspected his new paint job.

Will emerged from the other side of a large piece of equipment and found who he was looking for. "_There_ you are! I've been looking all over for you. You never returned my call!" he said.

"Sorry, I completely forgot to call you back. I've just had a lot to do today, that's all. What's up?"

Will finally stopped and stood next to Cal to take part in his point of view. "Nothing, I was just wondering where you were since you left my apartment before I even got up this morning." He suddenly noticed that Cal's RVF had new colors. "Oh shit! They finally let you pick your colors? I'm jealous!" he exclaimed. Cal simply nodded and Will walked around the RVF to see the new color scheme.

The body of the RVF was mostly a light gray, but the engine nacelles and wings were a much darker gray; they had a slightly brown tint in color. The colors were blended at the wing roots to show a gradual transition from light to dark, though. A prominent, wide, off-white stripe was painted front-to-back on the wings close to the ends. Even the tail fins were white at the tips, gradually blending to dark gray to match the color of the nacelles.

After a minute, Will walked back over to Cal. "It looks really nice, but... I don't get it. Is there a motif?"

"Well, there's actually a story to it. This color scheme mimics the colors of my favorite bird, the northern mockingbird." Will looked very confused at this point, but Cal kept on telling his story. "I still remember the first time I saw one of those birds. When I was very little, we had one that lived in our front yard. He would frequently perch himself on top of the bush in front of my bedroom window and I watched as he surveyed his territory every morning. I don't know how to put it any more plainly, but watching him fly around the yard literally _inspired_ me to become a pilot. There was something about the way he would so skillfully fly straight through thick brush and bushes, and come out without a scratch. It was amazing to see the precision of his flying, and that's what made me want to fly too."

"Sounds pretty appropriate, then! In combat, I've seen you weave through nearly impossible amounts of projectile fire and come out unscathed," Will remarked.

However, Cal was not done with his story. "When Marie and I moved into our own place together, we were once again blessed with the presence of another mockingbird, who had already called our backyard his kingdom. She tried to put a birdfeeder up to attract other birds, but mockingbirds are extremely territorial and she had placed it within his realm. He would constantly swoop by the birdfeeder whenever another bird would stop to get some seed, and scare it off. Eventually, we had to move the birdfeeder to the front yard. She'd almost curse that bird for being so mean to the other birds. I had to explain to her that he was there before us and told her about the mockingbird I had in my front yard as a kid. She then started to accept that maybe we could see him as sort of a 'neighbor', but she still had difficulty understanding why I'd sit in the backyard and almost talk to him from time to time. She just didn't get how much I respected that bird for its flying prowess and unflinching determination to protect that which mattered to it the most. It would even try to stand up to any housecats who happened to wander nearby."

"Damn, you really put a lot of meaning into your colors, then. I honestly haven't really put a lot of thought into what colors I'd want; whenever they decide that I am worthy of customizing my bird the way I like it, that is."

"It will probably come to you when you least expect it," Cal replied, "But anyway, now you see where my inspiration comes from. I draw motivation from the behavior of the mockingbird; I will do anything to protect that which is important to me, even if it gets me killed." A moment of silence passed before Cal nudged Will's arm. "Remember yesterday when I told you that I was being followed by a bird?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Look," Cal said as he pointed towards his RVF. Near one of the wing roots perched a certain gray bird, whose calls kept changing every few seconds.

Will's eyes opened wide in disbelief. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I told you I was being followed, dude! That is most definitely a mockingbird and he has absolutely no business being on this ship in the middle of the bay. Yet, here he is..." Cal casually stated.

"That's so true! What does it mean?" Will asked.

"As crazy as it sounds, I am sure this is the same bird that's been following me around since we got back from service." Cal looked downwards as he shook his head and chuckled. "I'm not a religious man and the concept of an afterlife is still a huge mystery to me. However, I am inclined to believe that maybe... just _maybe_, Marie has something to do with all of this. Not just the mockingbird, but everything that's been happening to me since I got out of the hospital and returned to service."

"You think she's reincarnated as a mockingbird?"

"...or the bird is a guardian angel of sorts..." Cal said with a slight laugh. "It's all enough to bake your noodle isn't it?"

Will didn't answer. He simply nodded and gaped at the situation as he tried to grasp ahold of everything that Cal had just told him.

They both stood in silence for a couple of minutes before Cal put his arm around Will's shoulder and started to pull him away from where they were standing. "Come on, dude... it's starting to get dark. Let's go get something to eat. I've got a hankerin' for some burgers."

Will broke from his nearly-catatonic state and heartily agreed, "I have the perfect place to go, then. But _I'm_ buying!"

"Yeah, right! I'm the superior officer, so that means that I have to pay," Cal argued. They both continued to fight over who was going to pay for what while they walked away. However, through all of that, Cal managed to look backwards one last time to see his beautiful, newly-painted RVF; and to subliminally wish his "guardian angel" a good night.


	39. No Man is an Island

A/N: I'm starting to get slightly annoyed at myself for taking so long between postings. I know that there are many of you who are patiently waiting for each new chapter and for that, I am grateful of your patience. I have some good news for you all, though. Even though I am taking a wintermester course in school, I will have a week and a half of free time, starting this Thursday and going all the way past New Year's Day. I don't have any assignments due, since we are on break during that time. My plans during that time are to focus on studying my precalculus, working my part-time job, and getting some goddamn writing done! I hope to have one or two chapters finished up during this time. Plus, I will have another week between the end of my wintermester class and the beginning of the spring semester to also work on whatever I choose! That means that I should be putting up a few chapters between now and January 18th.

As far as the school thing is going, I had a very successful semester in the fall, earning A's in all five of my classes. This spring semester will prove to be a bigger challenge for me, since I am planning on tackling 19 credit-hours during this time. If you include my wintermester class (which counts as a spring course for transcript purposes), I will have completed 22 credit-hours for just this semester alone. Also, I did so well in my trigonometry class, that they are skipping me into calculus I, under the stipulation that I take the time to study the precalculus course in extreme detail. If any of you are wondering, and I hope you are for the sake of being able to gloat about it, I actually got a 100 number grade in trig for the semester. I'm a math PIMP! :D I will be taking History 2, Government 2, Calculus 1, Physics 1, and Chemistry 1 this spring. I'm looking forward to it!

Okay, enough of my asinine bragging. I just wanted to get that off my chest and to bring you all the good news that is my upcoming slew of free time that will be wisely used for writing. There are still a handful of "character interaction and development" chapters left before the next climax in the story. However, there will be the occasional foreshadowing of the conflict to come here and there. Hope you enjoy it! I should be posting another chapter within a week and a half, so don't wander off too far. Happy holidays to everyone! -(12/22/10)

* * *

"…It looks like we are going to be getting our first taste of the Aimo winter season tomorrow," the news meteorologist said, "I'll have more details for you a bit later in the program."

The camera transitioned back to the news anchors behind their newsdesk. "Thanks, Jerry," one of them answered, "First, our top news story. President Mulcahy spoke today at a press meeting and formally confirmed the rumors that the deployed NUNS fleet had come under heavy attack and sustained massive casualties."

A pre-recorded video of the press meeting now played on the screen, with President Mulcahy speaking from behind his Presidential podium. Several advisors and NUNS officers stood behind him with their hands behind their backs. His face displayed a feeling of remorse and pain as he empathized with those citizens who had been stricken with the news of their loved ones' deaths. "Yes, it _is_true. Our fleet was attacked by a massive coalition fleet of Galaxy and Vajra forces." He stopped for a moment to let the press attendees murmur amongst themselves. "I want to start out by honoring the countless brave souls who gave their lives in the name of protecting this colony from enemy aggression. Their sacrifice will be remembered by all of us and we owe them and their families an enormous debt of gratitude." Everyone fell silent to pay respects to the deceased soldiers. After another moment, President Mulcahy pointed over to one of the journalists who had raised their hands. "I'll take a few questions from the press."

The journalist stood up and asked his question, "Mr. President, our sources say that the battle occurred well over a week ago and only _now_ are we getting to hear about it. Can you explain to us the enormous delay in making an official statement?" A lot of the other journalists grunted in agreement to the question.

President Mulcahy had seen this question coming. He cleared his throat and fixed his suit before responding, "Unfortunately, all I can say is that it took time to compile a list of the KIAs, formulate a response plan, and then censor the results of our findings to tell our citizens exactly what they need to know." Again, he pointed out another member of the press who also had their hand up.

"Mr. President, this 'response plan', can you tell us more about it? The people want to know what it is that our soldiers are dying for."

Mulcahy turned to one of the military personnel behind him. The officer simply shook his head. After turning back around, he responded, "Unfortunately, that information is classified. We ask that the people remain patient with us while we work to resolve the situation. I can assure you that you will be immediately notified of any new information that doesn't compromise the military's strategy and put our soldiers at further risk." He pointed to another reporter.

"Mr. President, rumors are swirling around that you chose to deal with our resource shortages by deploying a large force of Zentraedi soldiers to reinforce the fleet. Can you clarify your position behind dealing with the Zentraedi problem?"

The President was actually slightly shocked by this question. "_What_ Zentraedi problem? If you mean that allowing the Zentraedi fleet to join our colony has put a strain on our available resources, I have no idea why you see that as a 'problem'. Every member of that Zentraedi fleet has been made aware of what it is that they need to do to become productive members of this colony. Each one of those Zentrans is ready to do what it takes to pull their own weight and help build our colony. While many of those Zentrans have assimilated into our colony as civilians, most of them chose to continue to serve as soldiers. Would you consider the Zentrans who lived with us on the Frontier colony ships to be a source of the 'problem' as well?" Mulcahy hunched forward with both of his hands on the sides of the podium to prop himself up. It was a menacing pose as he waited for an answer from anyone who dared to respond. Nobody spoke up and he followed up his response with a bit of a taunt, "Yeah, I didn't think so..."

The newscast then switched back to the anchors for a bit of perspective. "While President Mulcahy seems to be confident in his stance, his constituents continue to dog him at the polls. Mulcahy has taken a bit of a beating in his approval ratings over the past several days as news of the fleet's near-destruction began to trickle in to the colony. A recent poll taken shows rising support for the implementation of a mandatory micloning statute, in order to deal with the dwindling resources that our colony has been experiencing."

The other news anchor then took over the dialogue. "We took to the streets with our reporters to find out what the mood of the people is. Here's what we found..."

Another video played a montage of interviews conducted on the streets. "I'm Zentraedi," the first respondent on the video said as he pointed at his ears, "...and I have no issues with living as a miclone. I've lived as a miclone all of my life and I don't see what the big deal is. Those other Zentrans don't understand that they consume a far larger share of the resources available to this colony. I don't think it's fair that we have to make concessions just so they can live their lives however the hell they want."

"President Mulcahy obviously doesn't care about his own people," another respondent said, "I think he's hiding the truth of things so he can pander to the sudden explosion in Zentraedi population. He's obviously positioning himself to grab their share of the voting so he can be re-elected to his office when his first term is up. It just sickens me what politicians will do to save their own hides..."

Cal laid on the couch in Will's apartment while he watched the newscast playing on the television set. His face had been slowly transitioning from apathetic to annoyed before he finally sat up on the couch. "What about the goddamn soldiers? I thought we were talking about the NUNS and the lost lives, but now we're talking about some idiot's disdain for the Zentraedi?" he exclaimed. Unfortunately, nobody else was in the room and Cal was simply yelling at the television set. The newscast continued to play while he spoke his mind to deaf ears on the other side of the signal.

"We'll be back with weather after this commercial break!" one of the anchors stated with a forced smile. The program cut out and an advertisement began to play.

Cal calmed back down and sighed as he reached forward to grab his PDA, which laid upon the coffee table in front of him. Checking for any messages and finding none, he sighed again in disappointment. He put the PDA back down and began to stare at it, hoping that it would automatically come to life with any kind of incoming message.

After a moment, he heard Nene's voice coming from directly behind him. "What's the matter? Why are you looking at your phone like that?" she asked.

Cal was startled by her sudden words. He lurched backwards and turned towards her with an incredulous look on his face. "Nene! How long were you there?"

"Long enough. So, what's with you? You look like you're expecting someone to call you or something..."

Cal turned back towards the TV and quietly responded, "N- nothing... I'm just bored, that's all."

Nene smiled and walked around to the other side of the couch to sit down next to Cal. "You should know by now that you can't get any of that by me anymore. Come on... What is it?" Nene waited for Cal to respond, but he wouldn't even flinch in response. "You're thinking about _her_, aren't you?"

Cal dropped his head, knowing that he had been found out. "It's been almost a week since I last spoke to her. It _seems_ like an eternity, though. No phone call, no message, no text... Why do I get the feeling like she's avoiding me?" he asked with desperation in his voice.

Nene clicked her tongue and began to rub his back. "Ohh, I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you, but I honestly don't know what's going on with her, either. She hasn't been home much lately. Even _I've_ only seen her a couple of times this last week, and we share a place together. I wouldn't take it personally, Cal. I think she's just been really busy with her new post, that's all."

The news did help Cal feel a bit better, but he still couldn't help but worry about things. "I don't want to make it look like I'm expecting anything, but you know how it is... I just wanna know what she thinks about 'us'. I just want to know how she feels, that's all."

"Well, if you want, I can ask her to call you next time I see her."

"No! Please, don't tell her about this. She did make it clear to me that she's not going to have a lot of free time for awhile, and I don't want to impose. It's just that it's really hard to sit here and not get any kind of attempt to contact me. It can't be that hard to send a text message every once in awhile, can it?" Cal rhetorically asked.

"I thought you said you weren't going to get your hopes up. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"It's not that I had a change of heart... it's just that it's far more difficult to deal with than I had imagined. I still have the same doubts, but it's like I get my hopes up and then something happens to dash them to pieces. That's the story of my life..." Cal sulkingly said. He rested his chin on his hands, which were propped up on his knees.

"The story of your life?"

Cal sat back up and made himself a bit more comfortable on the couch. "Every time things start to go well for me, something comes along and takes it all away. You only know of my fiancee, but that wasn't the first time I had lost something close to me." Nene slightly opened her eyes upon realizing that Cal was really about to open up a part of his past to her. "You never hear me talk about my parents, and there's a good reason why. That's because they were taken away from me..." Cal paused for a moment before continuing, "They died when I was still very young. They told me that it was some kind of accident. I was at school and got called into the office so they could tell me what had happened. I honestly don't remember a lot from that time of my childhood, even much of my parents or the details of their deaths. They didn't even have the bodies for the funeral, so the morning that they died was the last time I got to see them alive or dead. I then became the property of the Frontier government and I got bounced around from orphanage to foster home and back several times, never really able to grow my roots anywhere."

"What about other family members? Didn't you have anyone who could take care of you?" Nene asked.

"Nope. As I know it, my parents left their families to join the Frontier fleet before it left Earth. I was just a toddler then, so I don't remember anything of the Earth," Cal replied.

"Oh..."

"Then I met Marie at one of my schools when I was about twelve. Even though I didn't have a permanent home, her parents sympathized with my plight and grew quite attached to me. They became the closest thing I had to real parents and after several years, they took me into their own home. By then, Marie and I had almost graduated from high school and we were ready to begin living our lives together."

He had already pulled his engagement rings out of his pocket and held them in his hand. Cal looked downward at them in his hand and laughed. "It's actually amazing how quickly things can change. You already know what happened to Marie, and you'd think that that was all I had to go through... Well, even after her death, her parents and I helped each other get through that rough time. Unfortunately, that time of healing didn't last too long... The Vajra had come."

Already, Nene knew what he was about to say, but she couldn't help her reaction. "No...!" she whined.

"Yep, her parents were killed during a Vajra attack on Island-1. With nothing left to lose, I threw myself at the mercy of the service. I hoped to at least make myself useful by becoming a combat pilot. I said goodbye to my former co-workers and took up arms; not even fearing for my own survival... the perfect soldier. In combat, I found solace in the fact that I knew I was protecting people whom I had never met before. That was all I needed to keep on fighting... Then even _that_ was taken away from me. I was crippled by the injuries I sustained during the final descent operation, taking away my ability to fly and fight." He paused for a moment before finishing, "...but at least the fighting was over then; I wasn't so sorely needed anymore. The next couple of months in the hospital were spent wondering what was going to happen to me. What was I going to do with my life? If I wasn't able to recover, I wouldn't be able to fly anymore. I couldn't let that happen... Perhaps that's why I made a full recovery to the shock and surprise of my doctors."

"Damn! I can't imagine how you managed to keep on getting back up after being knocked down so many times. Was there something that you were trying to prove?" Nene asked.

Cal looked at the floor to answer. "I don't know... The best way I can describe it is that I refused to let the universe push me around and get away with it. Even Marie's dying words to me supported my defiance. She knew me better than anyone else and I think in a way, she was telling me to never give up, no matter what. She knew that I had the desire to defy the will of the universe and that I should just keep on fighting." He looked back at Nene to gauge her reaction.

"That makes a lot of sense," she said with a slight laugh, "Now I know where you get your hard-headedness from. You've gone through so much, and yet you're still fighting to prove that you will control your own destiny." Nene looked away with a smile. "I can tell that's why she likes you..." she softly stated.

Cal quickly whipped his head to Nene's direction. "Wait! What was that?" he demanded.

Nene casually turned her gaze back to Cal and wore a sly grin. "She's never actually _said_ anything about it, but I can tell... The very fact that she tolerates you should be worth a thousand words. That's all I'm going to say..."

Cal got a little upset at Nene in response to her words. "You're a tease, you know that?" he yelled. Somehow though, he felt a little bit better.

Nene laughed a bit at his reply, but she was also laughing about what was going through her head. "I'm thinking about the image of you standing up to my mother the other day. It didn't matter that she was several times larger; you refused to yield. From my point of view, that's you standing up to the universe and defying it. You don't know how stubborn my mother can be."

Cal buried his head in his lap, "Oh god... don't remind me. I really don't want to have to deal with _her_ too..."

"Well, I actually talked to her yesterday and she asked about how Will was doing," Nene said with a slight pause between sentences. "She actually asked about you too..." Cal sat up and looked incredulously at Nene. "I think she sees in you exactly what Klan does."

"That woman is _intolerable_!"

"Yes, but I bet you felt the same way about Klan when you first met her, didn't you?" Nene retorted. Cal didn't respond; he only smiled in embarrassment. Nene picked up his tell and continued, "Then don't worry about it."

Cal stopped smiling and looked back at the floor. "That's just the thing, though. Things were starting to take off for me again and then I started to fear that 'it' was happening again. Sure enough, at the moment of truth, she was taken away from me. Thank God it didn't involve her death, but it came _damn_ close!"

She wanted to argue, but Nene couldn't help but agree. "That's why you were so hesitant to throw yourself at the mercy of your emotions, huh?"

Cal nodded. "If it's one thing that life has taught me, it's to be careful to whom I attach myself. I wish I didn't have such apprehension about things like that, but it's just a defense mechanism to keep myself from being hurt again." He shifted in his seat before continuing, "Now we're back on Aimo and after a quick initial meeting, she's basically gone again. That'll teach me to get my hopes up, huh?"

Nene was dumbfounded; she didn't know how to respond. She wanted to give Cal a response that was laced with rainbows, sunshine, and "things can only get better" rhetoric, but she knew that he was too smart to believe any of that.

Cal continued the subject before Nene could say anything. "I've never had much in life. Everything keeps getting taken away from me," he said as he pointed to his duffel bag in the corner, "Everything I own fits neatly into that bag. I've been used to living on my own with nothing to lose... maybe that's why I used to not care whose toes I stepped on."

"_Used to_ not care?"

"That's right. I used to not care, but all that changed when I met you guys. All three of you... but especially Klan. You two have been there to keep my ass out of trouble, but her... I guess I just had to appreciate that she always went out of her way to keep me from getting out of control. It takes a special kind of person to put up with me like that. Every foster family that I lived with couldn't deal with me for very long. That's why I couldn't stay in one place. However, the only other person who cared enough about me to put up with my crap was Marie. When we were together, she cared enough to make sure I stayed on the right track in life. Without her, I wouldn't be where I am today."

Nene stared blankly towards the television still playing inaudibly across the room. "It all makes sense, then..." she said under her own voice.

Cal didn't quite hear what she had said and he was still too busy continuing his monologue, "Regardless of what happens, at least I know that I can depend on you guys to be there for me when I need a little bit of a 'course correction'." He sighed and looked at Nene before grabbing her shoulder. "I intend to break the cycle... I won't lose you guys too." There was only sincerity on Cal's face as he said that to Nene.

She couldn't help but well up a bit before lunging towards Cal to hug him. "Aww! We're not going anywhere, okay?"

…

Although the nearby ocean usually helped to regulate the temperatures in the city, the incoming cold-front defiantly blew in from the direction of the bay and swept over the boardwalk on the shore. It didn't do much to stop patrons from taking care of their usual business, though. Alto patiently waited at the edge of the boardwalk, leaning against the railing while he watched the lazy, walrus-like creatures sunning their bellies on the docks nearby. He was reasonably-dressed for the weather, wearing a light coat and sweater.

Eventually amongst the dull roar of the patrons walking to and fro, Alto could hear his name being called out. "Alto!" He looked in the direction from the voice and saw a figure waving to him from down the boardwalk.

Sheryl approached him with quite a bounce in her step and she laughed at his reaction to her outfit. "What do you think?" she asked, quickly spinning around to show off her outfit. Already, Alto was put in a bit of a bind to say the right words in response, or he feared he would be in for a scolding. Sheryl wore a pink turtleneck sweater and actually wore mittens, even though it wasn't terribly cold yet. Her hair was divided to each side and braided all the way down, topped by a French beret. Her braids were tied off at the ends by an elastic band with two fake cherries. She stared upwards at him from behind her sunglasses, but wore an innocent smile.

"Umm... It's different," he stammered, "Looks nice." It took a lot for him to say that, for some reason.

"'Different', how?"

In his mind, Alto was thinking something along the lines of "_Damn! Why can't she just be happy with that answer?_" Unfortunately, this wasn't going to get him out of having to expand on his answer. He shrugged as he answered, "It's just different than I'm used to seeing you. I guess you could say it's more of a 'cute' look for you. You're usually wearing, um... more elaborate outfits." He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping that it was enough to get by.

Sheryl briefly pursed her lips, following his answer. However, she quickly smiled again and hopped slightly as she spoke. "Good! That's exactly the look I was going for. I'm glad you like it!"

As she gave him a hug, you could tell that Alto was thinking "_Whew! Thank god!_"

Their little get-together quickly led them to a small seafood restaurant on the wharf, where they took a seat at the front of the restaurant. The view of the ocean was clear from their vantage point and Sheryl made it a point to verbally display her approval. "Wow!" she exclaimed as she leaned against the glass with her hands. She looked down below to where there were quite a few people fishing from the pier.

Alto simply chuckled and used his fork to dunk a piece of fish into the sauce on his plate. "I've been meaning to visit this little restaurant since before we went on deployment duty. One of my old friends from school recommended it to me." His attempt at small talk quickly ended, since Sheryl was busy looking at all of the scenery outside of the window.

She eventually sat down and made herself more comfortable to eat the delicious seafood sitting on the plate in front of her. Before she even picked up her utensils, she carefully placed her mittens on the table and removed her French beret. Under the cap, she wore a couple of flowery barrettes to keep her hair straightened. Again, Alto was a little surprised at her outfit motif, but he tried hard not to stare.

He was quick to break the silence, since Sheryl was no longer distracted by the goings-on outside of the window. "So, how's work been treating you?" he casually asked.

She answered while she unfurled her napkin to place it on her lap, "It's going just fine. I think we'll be able to successfully organize something big soon, too." Sheryl stopped talking for a moment because she realized that she was starting to hint at something that nobody else was supposed to know about; even Alto. She smiled again as she continued, "Hmm... No hints, though. I can't give away any of the surprises."

Alto didn't seem to mind her secrecy. After all, she's usually vague with whatever it is she's talking about with him. For some reason, she always seems to want him to chase her and he's grown accustomed to not falling into her traps. "Oh, okay. That's good, then! I'm looking forward to it," he cautiously replied with a smile.

The urge to interrogate Alto for his apprehensiveness was almost irresistible to Sheryl. However, she quickly shook the feeling from her mind, promising to herself that she was going to try and make this day as enjoyable to Alto as she could. She calmly began to partake of her meal while they continued making small talk with each other. It's been a couple of months since they'd been around each other, but it seemed to be difficult for them to really engage in any kind of real conversation.

Having whetted their appetites, Sheryl and Alto returned to the boardwalk to investigate shops of notable curiosity and to just enjoy their surroundings in general. Sheryl's outfit appeared to succeed in hiding her identity for the time being, so at least they didn't have to worry about her getting mobbed by fans while they were out together.

Eventually, they came upon a series of amusement games, like those seen at a carnival midway. The inner-child within Sheryl seemed to come out in full force as soon as she saw the games in their flashy splendor. She grabbed Alto's wrist and dashed towards the stands on the boardwalk, "Ahhh! Come on, Alto! I want to win something big... like a stuffed animal or something!"

Alto had no choice, and his head seemed to nearly fall off from Sheryl yanking his body into a completely different direction than he was originally traveling. "Oi, Sheryl...!"

Dragging him behind her by his wrist, Sheryl slowly walked down the boardwalk, looking to each side at the games and prizes inside of each booth. Every turn of her head was followed by a surprised gasp; it was as if she'd never been to such a place before in her life. Alto just let himself be dragged around, trying to not be embarrassed about being tugged every which way Sheryl went. Fortunately for him, nobody really gave his predicament a second glance.

Finally, she saw something that she absolutely _had_ to have. "There! I want that one!" she demanded with a child-like demeanor. While bouncing with joy, she pointed into one of the booths, where there were several rows of stuffed animals lined up on the shelves; each row's stuffed animals were larger than the ones on the row below it. The top row had a label on the shelf with the item's redemption value on it. Obviously, it was a seemingly-unreachable number and Alto didn't really think it was worth all of the time, money, and effort it would take to gather that many tickets.

"Oh, come on. It's going to take _forever_ to earn that many tickets," he replied.

This wasn't a very good reason or excuse for Alto to attempt to use. Sheryl leaned into him with her shoulder and began to push him towards one of the ticket redemption games nearby. "Let's get to work, then! Don't worry, I won't let you do _all_ of the work!"

During the time that they spent playing games, Alto couldn't help but look at Sheryl while she busily played the games right beside him. It was as if she had the disposition of a child; but a child who was having the time of her life. This was a side of Sheryl that he had rarely, if ever, seen. It was refreshing to see that she was not being confrontational with him, as she always is. Somehow, he did feel like there was something... "different" about her. The words which she wrote to him in the letter he was given before he left Aimo a few months ago did start to show some value. However, there was something about all of this that seemed out of place to him.

Some time later, they emerged from the crowds on the boardwalk carrying the spoils of victory. Alto carried a plastic bag full of various trinkets and toys, while Sheryl carried the enormous stuffed animal on her shoulders. She also wore several leis of fake flowers around her neck and some brightly-colored bracelets on her wrists. Several passers-by smiled at the sight of such a large object being carried by a very happy individual. Alto was also pleased at how happy Sheryl seemed to be.

"I had so much fun! Now, I just have to find a place in my room to keep my new friend here," Sheryl said rolling her eyes upwards as if she was looking at the stuffed animal on her shoulders.

Alto slightly sighed as he responded, "I have to admit, I did have more fun than I thought possible. It's amazing how the things we enjoyed as kids can still mean so much to us as adults."

"See? You don't have to be such a stick in the mud all of the time! This is what happens when you just let your inhibitions loose and enjoy the moment. It's like being a kid all over again, isn't it?" Sheryl finished up her response by bumping Alto to the side with her own body and giggling.

Initially, he wanted to complain about her aggressive gesture, but then he realized that she was just harmlessly flirting with him. He had already taken in a quick breath to speak out, but then he exhaled and smiled as they continued walking down the boardwalk. Alto looked forward to reflect on the past few hours he'd spent with Sheryl. Although her personality was easy-going and bubbly, it just seemed out-of-character for her. Even though he happily continued to chat with Sheryl, he wondered why this whole situation felt out of place.

…

"Do you have everything you need out here?" Will asked of Cal as he stepped out onto the porch of his apartment to hand Cal an opened bottle of beer.

Cal closed the lid of the grill upon which he had been cooking and turned around to take the bottle out of Will's hand. "Yep, now it's just a matter of waiting a bit. I got a couple of spicy bratwursts to snack on while we wait for the rest of the meat to cook. They'll be done in just a minute," he said just before taking the first sip of his drink. He swallowed and asked a question of his own, "Oh, is Nene coming over tonight, by any chance? I should probably know if I'm cooking for two or three."

"No, but I actually have a favor to ask of you," Will said while looking slightly downwards, "Is there any way you can find a place to stay just for tomorrow night? I'm planning on spending some personal time with Nene, but she won't stay late while you're here. She says it wouldn't be very polite with you sleeping in the living room, ha ha..." He really didn't feel right about having to make such a request, seeing as how he had invited Cal to stay at his place, but his petition wasn't unreasonable.

Cal widened his eyes for a moment, but then smiled in return as Will finished his request. "Heh, why are you so embarrassed to ask? The last thing I want to do is to impose on you while I am here. I have no qualms with helping you out; it's the least I can do to return some of your generosity."

"No, no! You're not imposing at all! I just figured that we have limited time for some R&R before we have to return to duty. I might as well get some alone time with Nene while we have the chance."

Will's response reminded Cal of their finite time on Aimo. His memory quickly flashed the image of the model of the Quarter in David Nguyen's office and the mathematical equations sprawled all over the white-board above it. These pieces of evidence were signs of things to come for the Quarter and its crew. "Yeah, you're right about us not having much more free time." Cal hung his head as he came to a certain realization. "You know, maybe I should just see if I can find somewhere else to stay, since you guys certainly could use some more privacy. I don't like the thought of you guys having to walk on eggshells around me because I just happen to be staying in your living room. It's like you said, we won't be off-duty for forever."

Will had been leaning on the porch bannister, but he stood up when he heard Cal's suggestion. "No, it's okay really! I don't want to force you out because of petty selfishness. I just wanted at least one night to ourselves, that's all."

Cal chuckled as he himself leaned back against the bannister nearby. "I know, dude... I know. Look, you have to see it this way: I'm sleeping on my best friend's living room floor. You can't put it more succinctly than that." Cal looked to the side and downwards towards the people walking up and down the street in front of the apartment building. "Honestly, I kind of need a bit of privacy of my own. It's kind of tough when you are living in the common area of someone's apartment, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess..." Will realized the point that Cal was making, but he still felt bad about having brought this whole subject up in the first place. "I just want to be sure you don't shut yourself out from everyone else." Cal perked up since he had no idea why Will was saying this to him, but Will continued speaking before Cal could respond, "Nene told me what you told her last night. ...and she's right. We're not going anywhere and you're not going to get rid of us, either!" Will smirked as he said those words.

Cal shook off the urge to get a little upset that Nene shared their conversation with Will. He sighed as he responded, "I didn't have any intention of doing such a thing. I just think that it's better if I get into a more 'normal' living situation until we're called out to duty again." Cal shifted his posture before continuing, "Commander Lee actually offered me a place to stay several days ago. He says he has an extra room at his place that doesn't get used and I was welcome to it if I was interested. At the time, I declined the offer, but he told me that if I changed my mind..." Cal trailed off and stood back up to open the lid on the grill that was next to him. Smoke billowed away from the cover, once it had been removed.

"Oh... well, that sounds like quite a setup, then! Maybe you'll get a chance to do some kissing up to the Commander while you're there!" Will said as he approached Cal to nudge him from the side.

"Whatever," Cal mumbled while he worked over the grill. After a moment, he turned to hand Will a plate with a bratwurst on it. He dropped the other brat on another plate and replaced the cover onto the grill. After quickly looking around him, he muttered to Will, "Mustard."

"Hm? Oh! Yeah, right here," Will replied as he leaned over to open the mini-bar next to him. He pulled out a yellow bottle and tossed it to Cal.

"The rest of this stuff will be done cooking in a little while," Cal said. He squeezed some mustard onto his plate and cut off a piece of the brat before dipping it into the mustard and taking a bite. "So..." he struggled to say with the hot piece of brat in his mouth, "I'll give the Commander a call and see if his offer still stands. For now, we'll just enjoy this gorgeous evening with some of my famous outdoor cooking, here."


	40. The Longest Night

A/N: Well, life got in the way once more, keeping me from getting a lot of writing done during the winter break. However, I just completed Chapter 43 and it's totally Zentran-sized! Weighing in at ~12000 words, it promises to deliver plenty of content in a single shot! I've decided to stop moderating chapter lengths because it's taking me too long to pull the story into the "action" phases. This way, the story progression rate will increase and you will get more bang for your buck. It's funny how life always seems to screw up your plans. Once I finished my wintermester writing class, my computer's video card decided that it didn't want to remain among the living anymore. I spent several days not able to use my own computer, while half of Chapter 43 sat on its hard drive. After about a week of e-mail correspondence with EVGA, my video card manufacturer, I caved in and bought a cheap-ass video card to use while EVGA plays around with the RMA process. All this time, I kept getting called into work. The weather was making things busy for us and it even snowed here in Dallas last week! Snow means that all pizza places get completely hammered with business from people who are too scared to tread in that "white stuff sitting on the lawn". It's all good, though. I made good money during this time; snow is not that hard to drive in. In this case, the snow never even accumulated on the roads. It just stayed mainly on the grass.

Anyway, I managed to work hard at getting Chapter 43 finished, so I could turn around and get this chapter prepped for posting here. I'm going to be spending the next week or so getting ready for the coming school semester, including a crash course in precalculus in preparation for calculus. So far, I managed to buy all of my books from other nearby students, avoiding the financial rape-fest that is the campus bookstore. However, I'm going to need to at least get my lab manuals from there. I will be sure to keep any of the workers from sneaking behind me. Who knows what they're planning when they do...

I'll do my best to finish the next chapter as soon as possible. Good times are coming...! -(01/13/11)

* * *

Another day wound to a close and a large flock of migrant birds had stopped to rest near Ozma's house. Most of the flock had taken up their perches amongst the branches of the large tree in his front yard, while the rest of them were spread around his neighbor's yard. Nevertheless, the flock of birds made quite a racket while they chirped and squawked amongst each other before they began to hibernate for the night. The evening sky was also blotted with many dark clouds, each of which threatened to rain at a moment's notice.

"What the hell is that noise? Damn birds!" Ozma complained as he looked out of his front window to investigate.

"It's almost wintertime," Kanaria calmly replied from the couch, "They're probably on their way to a warmer climate for the season; they're just like the birds of Earth and Eden."

"They're gonna crap all over everything! They'd better be glad that I keep my car in the garage," he angrily stated. He then sat back down on the couch across from Kanaria. Between them was a small setup of snack foods and a couple of drinks. Ozma certainly did know how to entertain guests at his house and did everything to make his home into a relaxing atmosphere for them. "Anyway..." he said as he leaned forward to put together a tiny cracker sandwich with a slice of cheese and pepperoni inside, "Did you have enough time to consider my request?"

Kanaria sat quiet and motionless for a moment before she answered. She seemed to have a bit of hesitation before giving a response. "My husband and I have talked it over the last couple of nights and it's gotten to the point where he actually thinks that your plan is quite the bee's knees," she said, followed by a pregnant pause.

Ozma smiled upon hearing this response, but it still didn't answer the question that was burning a hole in his skull. "Well... what do _you_ think?"

"I'm still not 100% sure, Ozma. Normally, I'd just dive right in, but maybe it's just that we're getting a little older every day. I find myself second-guessing everything that I do. It's as if I always want to take a look at the bigger picture and evaluate all of the variables before making a decision. Does that sound crazy to you at all?"

"Not at all, no. I've always relied on you to be my voice of reason when I needed it. While it is true that we're getting older, wisdom comes with age. It looks like your wisdom is starting to take priority in your decision-making. I find myself stopping to think about things far more often nowadays as well..." Ozma said with a slight laugh.

Making good on their threats, the clouds outside began to heavily precipitate. The annoying sound of the birds outside gave way to the spattering of the rain hitting the top of the house and the pavement outside. The torrential downpour was more than enough to send the birds deeper into the trees and underneath man-made structures so they could find shelter.

"Ha! That oughta shut those birds up," Ozma said, noticing the effects of the heavy downpour outside.

"Well, we definitely needed it. I don't think it's rained once since we got back from deployment. ...but with the recent coldfront coming through, I'm glad I'm not stuck out in the rain right now," Kanaria noted as she leaned back to take a sip of hot cider from her cup. Suddenly, her spot on the couch felt twice as comfortable than it was just a few moments prior.

Ozma became silent for a moment while he put his mind back on the issues at hand; the very reason he was having this discussion with Kanaria. "All joking aside, I'm going to get right to the point. I hate to have to feel like I'm asking so much of you, but I really do believe that I need you for one more assignment. There are some _big_ things coming up that I need your help with. If all goes according to plan, we'll be done with all of this and be home by Christmas... I promise."

Somehow, the inclusion of such a promise, no matter how uncontrollable the circumstances could turn out to be, gave Kanaria something of a goal to work towards, should she agree to Ozma's request. She looked downwards as she answered, "If what you say is true, then that means that we'll have secured a bright future for those that follow us... including my own son." Ozma nodded and Kanaria straightened up her posture to continue her answer, "Alright. Count me in."

Ozma smiled and clenched his fist in front of him in a celebratory gesture. "You're making the right decision, Kanaria. I'll make sure things get rolling on the logistics side of the operation. We'll get your Monster fixed right up... _just in case_," Ozma added with a wink. He threw that last phrase in there to punctuate his understanding of the deal between the two pilots.

Kanaria got up from her seat and saluted Ozma. "Understood. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should get back home soon. My husband is cooking up some of his world-famous barbecue ribs tonight and I want to get my hands on them while they're still fresh. Thanks for the snacks!"

Moments later outside the front door of his house, Ozma stood on the walkway leading to the driveway with his hands in his pockets. Kanaria was placing a bag into the backseat of her car, which was under the shelter of the carport covering the driveway nearest to the front door of the house. Meanwhile, the rain continued to relentlessly pour down just mere feet away from where they both stood.

"Hmm... looks like the clouds are starting to break up. I wonder if this is just something of a squall..." Ozma remarked towards Kanaria as he peered at the sky.

She closed the car door and turned towards Ozma, but she didn't really have the intention of responding to his offhand remarks about the weather. "One thing is bothering me, Ozma. What about my pilots? Who's going to be watching over them?"

"Well, I had Wagner keep an eye on them for you before we came back to Aimo. Looked like he was able to keep them under control..." Ozma trailed off while rolling his eyes and smiling.

"Seriously? Do you really think he's ready?"

Ozma kept smiling, but shook his head. "No... ha ha. Commander Thompson will be taking over your team. Wagner's ready, but it's just not quite his turn yet. I gave Wagner that assignment so he could have a taste of a leadership position. I promoted him so he'd start to put himself in the right kind of mindset for the job. He's already a good pilot; now I want to see how good of a leader he can be."

"Once again, I have to admire your ability to cultivate the best qualities in your pilots, Ozma," Kanaria commented.

He simply shrugged, as if it was no big deal. However, he squinted at something moving in the distance beyond his property lines. "Well, speak of the devil..." Ozma said while using his eyes to point Kanaria's attention to his driveway entrance.

Walking down the sidewalk, Cal appeared from behind Ozma's neighbor's six-foot hedge. Despite the pouring rain and chilly weather, he casually strolled along the walkway. He wore his usual uniform and had his duffel bag slung over his back, but he was soaked to the bone. Trying to read from the soggy sheet of paper in his hand, he stopped for a moment to verify the house number on Ozma's front gate. He looked up to see the faint figures of Ozma and Kanaria standing under the carport, completely untouched by a single raindrop. Ozma gave a friendly wave, inviting Cal onto his property, to which Cal responded by tugging the gate's latch to an unlocked position and swinging the door open.

While they waited for Cal to walk across the front lawn along the stone walkway, Kanaria turned to Ozma to make a quick remark. "Why is he walking? He doesn't seem to care that it's raining cats and dogs out there and that it's cold as ice. Doesn't he have any kind of personal transportation?"

Again, Cal's personal issues seem to raise questions in the minds of those who observe his behavior. However, Ozma was quick to give an explanation. "Look, he's just been through a lot of personal crap that's left him with little to no possessions. He's been staying with Ensign Garrett, sleeping on his living room floor because he doesn't have a place of his own. He's here because I offered to let him stay in the spare bedroom in my house."

Kanaria smiled and responded to Ozma before she came within earshot of Cal, who was quickly approaching. "Wow, you also know how to show your human side, huh?" she said with a chuckle.

Cal finally made it under the shelter of Ozma's car port and greeted the two pilots. "Lovely weather we're having..." he casually stated. "Commander... Lieutenant..." he said with a casual salute to them both. They nodded in response. "The stupid bus route drops me off about half a mile from your house, Commander. Of course, the rain didn't start until I disembarked from the bus and started walking... just my luck," he continued with a roll of his eyes.

Just as he said that, the rain let up as if the valve to the water works had been turned shut by some divine hand. They all looked out to the clouds, which were starting to break and were allowing some rays of the late afternoon sun shine through.

"Son of a _bitch_!" Cal exclaimed while swinging his clenched fist towards the clouds in the sky. Water from his soaked uniform launched into the air before falling harmlessly to the ground. He then turned around and glanced at Ozma and Kanaria with a slight laugh.

They looked at each other and laughed at Cal's exuberance over something that's far beyond his control. However, there was no way that Ozma was going to allow Cal to walk into his house soaking wet like that. "Wagner, the laundry room is right between the garage and the house. Just go in through the garage. You'll find a linen closet in there too, so get yourself dried up and I'll give you the standard tour," he said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

"Sir," Cal acknowledged. He immediately began to walk towards the garage, leaving Ozma and Kanaria alone once more.

Before Kanaria could leave, Ozma had one more question to ask. "Oh! Are you going to be able to make it to the crew picnic this weekend? Bring your husband and son with you!"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Ozma. You take care and let me know if and when we get some information about our 'upcoming plans'," she said as she ducked into her car. Her head popped up above the car once more, "I'll bring you some of those ribs when I get a chance."

Ozma stayed on the sidewalk with a smile while he watched Kanaria drive away. He spent a few moments to gather his thoughts before he rushed inside to make sure that Cal wasn't tracking water all over his house.

…

Within a few hours, the inclement weather had cleared up and nightfall had fallen over Frontier City. Meanwhile, a motorbike rider clad in a heavy winter coat traveled along the lit highway, before casually pulling into Ozma's driveway and disembarking. The rider then walked his bike, which carried a couple of paper bags marked with a restaurant logo in its basket, into the opened garage.

Inside of his house, Ozma studiously worked with some files on his coffee table when he heard the door leading to the garage open behind him. Cal walked through the doorway while reaching to his side to toggle the switch for the garage door to move it into a closed position. He carried the paper bags in his hands and promptly set them on the kitchen pass-through counter. Before saying anything, he brushed his coat's hood off of his head and started to unpack the contents of the paper bags. "It is damn cold out there tonight," he said with a sniffle, "I should have worn a scarf, too." He continued to set up the boxes he had taken out of the bags. "Alright, here's your order," he said to Ozma.

Ozma got up to get his meal and asked the obligatory question that crops up whenever one man brings another some food, "Great. How much do I owe you?"

Cal glared in frustration towards Ozma for asking that damned question, "Sir, today, you opened up your house for me in a gesture of kindness. Do you _really_ expect me to take money from you for some food?"

Ozma wore a sly grin as a reaction to Cal's response. "Okay, I got it! I just had to ask out of courtesy."

"Isn't it strange how we ask questions to which we already know the answers?" Cal rhetorically asked without looking at Ozma. He continued to remove the boxes from the bags and set them on the counter.

Ozma simply turned towards his food and began to transport it to his workspace on the coffee table. "How was the motorbike? I haven't used it in several months, so I wasn't sure if it might have needed some mechanical maintenance."

"It ran just fine," Cal said as he placed his coat on one of the barstools at the pass-through and took a seat in the other, "I'll look it over tomorrow to see if it needs its oil changed or anything..." He quickly took a bite of his food and fell silent while he chewed it for a bit. He swallowed and took a breath to continue speaking to Ozma, "I'm sure it's nothing like that Lancia Delta you've got in there. Are you _entirely_ sure you don't want to let me take that gorgeous baby for a spin sometime?" he asked with a mischievous smile.

"If you so much as _touch_ that car without my permission, nobody will be able to find your body after all is said and done," Ozma playfully threatened while pointing at Cal with his eating utensil.

While chewing his food, Cal reacted to a chime from his PDA by taking it off of his hip and reading the message on the screen. He typed a response on his PDA while talking to Ozma about a different subject, "This is a _very_ nice place, but why the extra room? You seem to be quite the bachelor-type. I would never have guessed you to be a man of extravagance, in any degree."

"Well, it's a guest room, of sorts... I figured I would have the extra room in case Ranka decided to stay overnight sometime."

Cal had all but forgotten that Ozma was once Ranka's legal guardian, so Ozma's response evoked an "Oh yeah!" reaction from Cal. "Ahh... That's right. Well, that makes sense, then. I suppose I might run into her at some point while I'm staying here."

"She doesn't visit often, to be honest. She's been busy with her career and her friends and all... I guess her dear 'brother' doesn't rank too highly on her priority list," Ozma said with a confident chuckle. However, it didn't seem to bother him at all.

"Ha ha... Well, you never know..." Cal responded, but his sentence was cut off by his PDA's chime again. After reading the message, his face contorted to a mixture of confusion and frustration. With a heavy sigh, he typed a response onto the PDA and sent the message back.

Noting Cal's sudden silence, Ozma had to ask about the text messages. "Girlfriend?"

Cal immediately thought of the same situation he had been in several days before while standing in front of David at Bell-Casse. "No, I don't have a girlfriend, Sir. However, I seem to be constantly stuck between a rock and a hard place, when it comes to women. I've always been surrounded by obstinate women during my adult life and some things just never change," he said with a slightly frustrated sigh. He then began to quickly shovel his food into his mouth.

"You just need to find a woman with whom you can learn to see eye-to-eye," Ozma replied. It was the usual advice from one man to another.

Cal, who had crammed his mouth full of food, began to laugh at Ozma's remark while trying not to spray his dinner all over the clean countertop. He lurched forward over the counter and put his hand over his mouth to contain the masticated food behind his closed lips while he wheezed out his laughter.

Ozma raised one eyebrow in a gesture of curiosity. "What's so funny?" he said with a slight chuckle.

It took Cal a few seconds to contain his laughter to the point where he could swallow his food to answer. After a few moments, he succeeded in swallowing and responded to Ozma's question with laughter in his voice, "What if you were involved with a Meltran? How, then, would you be able to see eye-to-eye with her?"

Cal had done a good job of hiding his actual thoughts from Ozma, who simply played along with the joke. "Yeah, I guess that would be a problem." He paused for a moment to chuckle, "You know what I mean, though..." It was a courtesy laugh, since he didn't quite get what was so comical about his statement.

"Mhmm..." Cal responded with his mouth full of food once more. While he was still chewing, he got up from his chair and took the rest of his food into the kitchen to store it in the refrigerator. He came back out into the living room where Ozma was sitting and put his coat back on in a hurried fashion.

"Going somewhere again?" Ozma inquired.

"Yeah, it looks like I need to be a good friend again..." Cal vaguely answered, "You don't mind if I take the bike out again, do you?"

"Nope, it's yours to do whatever you like with while you're staying here," Ozma replied.

Cal simply smiled with a nod at Ozma and rushed out to the garage to get on his way. However, Ozma still didn't get why his offhand comment was so funny to Cal. He quickly brushed the thought from his mind and buried his concentration back into his work while grabbing another bite of food.

…

The night continued on, but with it came certain leisurely activities for those who had already performed a hard day's work. Near one of the city's numerous concert halls, many well-dressed individuals chattered with each other as they calmly filed into the building's entrances. However, one familiar figure quietly waited outside, albeit rather impatiently. The chilly night wind occasionally swept by, adding to her level of discomfort.

Ranka angrily checked the time on her phone before scanning the sparse crowd of people once more, looking for a particular individual. She began to rub her arms uncomfortably while looking around, indicating both the awkwardness of her standing all alone there and from the chilly air blowing past her. Even though she was aptly dressed for the season, the combination of factors contributed to her overall uneasiness. She wore a furry black coat to match her black dress and cardigan sweater underneath, but having to stand outside for so long began to wear down her tolerance for the chilly night air. In her hand, she held a small black purse alongside her phone while she began to scroll through her address book to make a phone call.

Before she hit the "call" button on her phone, she spotted her target emerging from amongst the crowd. Alto hurriedly rushed towards her position, a look of regret and sorrow already pasted onto his face. "I'm so sorry, Ranka. I took far longer to get ready than I had planned. I am not used to wearing this kind of fancy getup..." he began to sputter as he came within earshot of Ranka.

However, Ranka's patience had already worn thin from having to endure the elements for so long while she waited for him to arrive. "You're 20 minutes late! Do you have any idea how cold I am right now? The least you could have done was call me to let me know where you are! I've been standing here waiting for you all this time!" she angrily stated.

Just as she erupted in anger, Alto stopped his forward progress and almost took a step back in surprise to her reaction. He couldn't recall ever seeing her really angry over anything before and it wasn't like her to chastise him over something so menial as being tardy. "I said 'I'm sorry'! You don't have to get so angry about it..." he shot back.

Ranka wouldn't have any of it. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to get tickets to this orchestral performance? This is a very high-brow event and I wanted you to have the chance to enjoy something new." She then searched him over with her eyes and immediately found something else to complain about. "Your clothes are a mess! Look at you...! Here!" she said as she shoved her purse and phone into his hands in front of him.

Alto had to stand still for a moment while Ranka adjusted and fixed every little detail of his clothes so he'd look more presentable. All the while, he's wondering why he's seeing this behavior from Ranka. She's certainly upset at him right now... He realized that it was kind of rude of him to not let her know that he was running late. It was now clear that he should have called, instead of making her wait out in the cold like he did. "Ranka, I-"

She immediately looked back up at him as she finished her work. "There... _Now_ you look much more like a gentleman!" she confidently stated as she took her purse and phone back out of Alto's cradled hands. She then whipped around to face the performance hall and began to walk towards it. "Let's go!"

Alto sheepishly walked beside her, but slightly behind. He was already feeling bad about making her wait for him in the cold, but he was more stupefied about the lecturing she just gave him. Ranka quickly reacted to his behavior by stalling her step for a moment to allow him to get beside her. She then continued her stride while she forced her arm underneath Alto's and firmly grabbed ahold of it. "A gentleman escorts his lady like this..." she said as if she was giving him a lesson on etiquette. However, her demeanor had quickly turned positive once more and she smiled as she huddled up closely to Alto's warm body. They soon entered the performance hall to take their seats inside.

Even though the orchestral performance was quite powerful, Alto sat in his seat pondering all that's happened whole he was gone on duty with the Quarter. Had he forgotten the way his relationships with Sheryl and Ranka felt to him? In his mind, he debated with himself on whether or not things were truly different between them. He was happy to be home and amongst his friends once more, but it felt like things were out of place. It could be how he felt different around Sheryl and Ranka, or it could be that there's something that's lingering in his mind; the feeling of unfinished business.

The intermission could not have come any sooner for Alto, who was beginning to feel a bit of drowsiness overcoming him. He had agreed to go to the orchestral performance because Ranka practically begged him to go with her. At some point during her phone call, he realized that he had been ordained by her to go and submitted himself to her requests. The concert wasn't boring to Alto at all, but for some reason, he just couldn't really get into it. His mind seemed to be too preoccupied with matters of greater importance.

Outside of the performance hall, the concert attendees mingled with each other while just about all of them held wine glasses in their hands. Alto patiently stood by himself at the side of the room while he watched Ranka talking with a small group of people whom she had recognized. He was just happy to get to stand up and stretch out a bit... and get a little food in his stomach. He stared at the table covered with so many delicacies, but he couldn't identify at least half of the dishes there. Even though he had some experience in gourmet cooking, he was surprised at the concoctions laid out before him. Rather than eating them, he tried to figure out how they were prepared and what ingredients were in them.

"Alto!" Ranka said to him with a bit of a raised voice. Alto jumped and snapped out of his distracted state, looking to Ranka standing right next to him. "Are you okay, Alto? You seem completely spaced out..." she asked with a concerned look on her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine... sorry, I just got to thinking about something," he coyly replied as he noticed a couple of people standing behind Ranka. It appeared that they had followed Ranka over to him.

She turned towards them and put her hand behind Alto, slightly pushing him towards the couple standing nearby. "This is Alto Saotome. He was kind enough to accompany me to the concert tonight!" she cheerily stated.

The couple seemed almost exasperated to meet Alto. "Wow...! It's such a pleasure to meet you!" the wife said, both of them shaking his hand with a little bit of exuberance. Alto cracked a smile, but he had no idea why they were so excited, until they continued their greeting. "My husband and I are huge fans of your performance in 'Sakurahime Azuma Bunsho' a few years ago. I never thought we'd get to meet you in person, but then Ranka has told us all about you ever since we met each other."

"Uhhh... Thanks!" Alto barely replied. He still looked confused, though. "How do you know Ranka?"

"Oh! Forgive me... I own the recording company that Ranka works for. I guess you could say I'm her boss, but we have more of a personal relationship than that." Both she and Ranka laughed a bit at her response to Alto's question. "Is there any chance that we'll get to see you on the kabuki stage again in the future? We know you're a military pilot now, but that doesn't mean that you can't come back and amaze us with your talents! We'd love to see what you're capable of."

Alto was already getting embarrassed from them bringing up his past; especially since he had done everything to hide the fact that he was a child prodigy kabuki actor. "Um, I really can't say at this point. The military keeps me busy and I'm fairly happy with the job. I think that I can give more to the colony as a pilot than as a kabuki actor. We're still in constant danger from outside forces and if I'm not out there doing my best to protect, then I don't think I'm making the most of my talents. Perhaps if we can assure the security of this colony beyond the shadow of a doubt, I might consider returning to the stage..." he replied with a slight laugh.

"Well, we thank you for your military service," the husband chimed in with a sincere smile, "Here's to your success in achieving a more secure future for us all." He then raised his wine glass to Alto before taking a sip. Alto smiled and did the same in return.

While Ranka and Alto returned to their seats in the performance hall, she had to remark about the meeting during the intermission, "I'm glad you got to meet them. I really think that you should network with people like that so they can open up opportunities for you, should you choose to venture into another line of work. ...or if you ever decide to go back to kabuki acting."

"Ranka, I don't-"

"I'm just saying, Alto!" she snapped. She then sighed and apologized, "Sorry. I am just trying to help you broaden your horizons. I'm glad that you're happy with your work now, but you never know what the future may bring. Don't get complacent with what you have in the present. If you network now, you will be in a good position to succeed, should any opportunities arise."

For a split moment, Alto looked at Ranka as if she was a total stranger to him. However, he realized that maybe these past few months apart from her were what she needed to grow more independent and ambitious. "That's very true, Ranka," he said, "I appreciate you looking out for me."

She smiled and hugged him with one arm before she turned her attention back towards the concert playing on the stage. "It's what I love to do."

…

In the near-perfect darkness of his new room, Cal stirred in an unfamiliar bed once more. Although he was absolutely drained of energy and he could barely keep his eyes open; it was difficult to adjust to yet another sleeping arrangement. It was nice to get to sleep on a real bed for a change, but that was not the only reason he found it difficult to sleep. In his mind, he kept going over the events that occurred after he left Ozma's house several hours earlier that night. Those text messages were the start of it all...

After he had left Ozma's house, Cal pulled up to an apartment building and ascended the stairs to the third floor. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door. However, only a couple of seconds had passed before the door opened for him. It became immediately apparent the urgent tone of the text messages he had received. Jen sheepishly stood before him, completely exasperated and looked towards him with bloodshot eyes. The coffee table in the living room behind her had a couple of wadded-up tissues. Also on the coffee table, there was an opened movie guide and a cocktail glass.

"What's wrong? Through your text messages, you made it sound like the world was coming to an end," he calmly asked. At a first glance, the tissues would indicate that she had been crying, but the movie guide told him that she was just watching cheesy romance movies. The reason for the cocktail glass was open to speculation.

Jen used the opportunity to throw herself into his arms, even though he hadn't made any physical gesture to invite her to do so. Cal was initially surprised at this, but he slowly closed his hands around her, still confused as to what's going on.

"Stephen and I had a big argument and I got mad and made him leave. He found out that I had lunch with you last week and completely blew up over it," she struggled to say. She almost looked ashamed to admit this to Cal.

"Why does he think that's such a big deal?"

"I don't know why he's so insecure about it. I have to keep reassuring him that you and I are just friends now."

Cal's eyes popped open upon hearing her answer. "Wait... you told him about _us_?"

Jen stepped back and looked into Cal's eyes, unaware of any wrongdoing. "Yeah... Why?"

Cal smacked his hand on his forehead out of frustration, "Aw, no wonder he reacted like that! You don't tell a boyfriend that you're 'just friends' with someone you've recently been with. It's just not a smart thing to do so early in a relationship!"

"Well, why should it matter?"

"It _shouldn't_, but it does. That's just the way guys are! You can't tell me that you wouldn't feel awkward being around someone whom Commander Ortiz has been with, would you?"

Jen got a bit aggravated at Cal's questioning... and his seemingly flawed sense of logic over the matter. "No...! I wouldn't find that to be weird at all!"

Cal chuckled and smiled as he responded, "Then you're definitely one out of a million." Jen blushed ever-so-slightly and walked over to the couch to take a seat. He then stared at the ground as he realized something else that's going to cause him problems. "Man, now that he knows about us, I'm going to get the strangest looks from him every time we pass each other in the halls of the ship."

"You men are so fickle when it comes to dealing with things like this... I can't believe that something so dumb is such a huge deal," she said with a laugh.

Cal didn't really like where the conversation was going and decided to leverage things into his favor a little bit. "You know, I can just head on home if you want me to go..." he sternly said, pointing at the door behind him.

"No! I'm sorry, Cal... I just wanted someone to talk to, you know? Just do me this favor and keep a lonely girl company for a while, okay?" she said, reaching out to the air as if she was grasping at Cal to keep him from leaving.

"Wait, so you just had a fight with Commander Ortiz because he was mad that you had lunch with me. Now, I'm in your apartment in the middle of the night while you're wearing your grubbies and you want me to stay for an undetermined amount of time... How is this a good idea?"

"Don't worry about it. I texted you because I knew that you would come to help me feel better. Now, just come sit down and finish watching this movie with me. I promise you that you can go when it's over, okay?"

Cal continued to play his little game and feigned hesitation while he debated on whether or not to stay. After a few moments, he agreed and sat down next to Jen on the couch. She had just started watching some mushy romance movie on her television when Cal arrived. She motioned to the screen to unpause the movie and it responded by continuing where it had left off. A comforter-sized blanket laid on the floor in front of the couch and Jen picked it up and threw it over herself and Cal as she settled into her seat.

"Comfy?" she asked.

Cal simply nodded and pulled the blanket down so that only his legs were covered. "Been watching movies and doing a little drinking, huh?"

She was a little embarrassed at the presence of evidence, but she did little to refute his accusation. "I just figured that I'd help get my mind off of things by watching a couple of movies."

Despite the numerous alarms going off in his head, Cal did what he thought was best and agreed to endure that which was considered to be "entertaining" to the seemingly-enigmatic female gender.

Throughout the movie, Cal noticed Jen getting closer and closer to him. By the time the credits started rolling, she was comfortably resting her head on his shoulder.

"Thanks for coming over tonight; it really means a lot to me. You're a real good friend, you know that?" Jen asked. Suddenly alarms began to go off inside of Cal's head, but there was little he could do about it at that very moment. Jen began to shift slightly in her position, leaned up against Cal. "I sometimes wonder if I made the right decision in letting you go in favor of Stephen..."

"Don't say things like that, Jen. I don't think he deserves those kinds of thoughts in your mind. I'm glad that we're friends, but that doesn't mean that you two can't be happy together." He did his best to diffuse the situation, before anything weird happened.

"Hmph... I can think of few guys who would willingly spend their evening watching cheesy romance movies with another girl and not have some kind of feelings for her... All those times on the Quarter when you were there to help me feel better about the problems I was going through at various times... what was that about, Cal? I know you care about me. Come on, you deserve someone who appreciates everything you do for them..." she said with an inviting voice.

Before he knew it, Jen had already taken her hand off of his side and gripped his shoulder to pull him closer to her. He felt her turn her head upwards to look at him and very slightly shifted his head away to make sure she didn't get too close. However, it didn't seem to have any effect on her motivation and she pulled him closer until she started to kiss on his neck.

"Jen..." Cal said as he kept pulling away, "No, Jen... this isn't right." In that very moment, he could smell the alcohol on her breath. Cal's eyes shot open in response and he lurched away and jumped up from the couch.

As if she had just woken up from a bad dream, she came to the realization of what she was doing. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to...!" she said as she bent forward in shame.

Cal wiped the wetness away from the skin on his neck and rubbed his eyes with his palms. "What's the matter with you, Jen? I kept having this feeling that something like this was gonna happen..." He removed his hands from in front of his face to see Jen sitting on the couch, staring at the wall with a catatonic look.

"Perhaps it's best if you just go on home."

"Yeah..." he responded while he put his shoes back on. He felt compelled to make her feel a little better before he left, though. He walked up behind her and squeezed her shoulder. "I can understand that you might be feeling a bit lonely right now, but just give this some time. Relationships always have their ups and downs. If you didn't have the occasional fight with each other, then you wouldn't have any other way of working out your differences. Trust me... when he comes back and you guys work out the problem, you'll be even more in love with each other. It happened all of the time when I was with Marie and our relationship grew stronger with each incident's resolution. I've even fought, quite literally, with my wingmates on various issues, but we get over it and we have become such a tightly-knit group together. It works on so many levels."

Jen didn't really respond verbally. She just grasped Cal's hand on her shoulder for a moment and then pulled his hand off of her shoulder. It was her way of telling him to just let her be alone with her thoughts for now.

"Oh, I think it would be best if you don't mention any of what happened tonight to Commander Ortiz," Cal remarked mid-stride on his way to the door.

"I know. Goodnight, Cal," Jen responded without looking at him.

Cal slowly and quietly walked out the door, taking care not to let the latch make any more noise than was necessary. Once the door was shut, he put his hand up to the wall nearby and gently bumped his head against the wall's hard surface. At that point, there had to be a million things going through his head...

Even while he laid in his new bed some time later, it seemed that none of the questions had yet been answered. However, he had finally succumbed to his physical exhaustion and made note of the last image he saw before he finally fell asleep: the digital clock next to him reading the current time of 3:56 AM.

At some point in his dream, Cal became annoyed at the repeated sound of a phone jingle. He suddenly realized that the jingle was his PDA ringing at him. He came out of his deep sleep and fumbled with the items on the nightstand near him. "_That better not be Jen calling me at this ungodly hour_," he thought to , he knocked the alarm clock off of the nightstand, sending it crashing to the floor. "Shit!" he mumbled. He then found his PDA and instinctively pressed the answer key on the screen without looking at the caller ID.

"Yes...?" he spoke with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

There was a brief silence from the phone before an answer came forth. "Cal?"

That was all it took for him to recognize the caller. He slightly gasped as he responded, "Half-pint!" He felt a little tightness in his chest from his pulse increasing a bit out of excitement.

There was a forced exhalation of breath that came through the phone's speaker; Cal's little pet name for her still seemed to bother Klan a bit. "Yeah, it's me," she replied.

Cal could almost hear her rolling her eyes on the other side of the connection. "Oh man," he groaned while rubbing his eyes, "What time is it?"

"Umm... it's about 4:30 in the morning. Were you sleeping?"

"No."

"You're such a liar! I can tell you've been sleeping by your voice. I thought you got up at four every morning!"

"I did while we were on duty, but ever since we got back to Aimo, I found myself waking up a little later every day... heh. I actually just got to sleep a half an hour ago."

"Oh, well I'll let you get back to sleep then. I'm sorry to wake you!"

"No, it's okay! I'm fine. I'm just glad to hear from you again. I've been wondering what you've been up to since you never seem to call me..." The guilt-trip has been carefully laid out.

"I know... it's just that every time I have a free moment, I look at the clock and realize that it's your usual time to sleep. I wouldn't want to disturb you. You could have just sent me a text message or something to say 'hello'. I would have responded when I got a chance!"

Cal had to stop him self from verbally sounding out his frustration over the text message statement. All this time, he worked hard to not try and contact her so he wouldn't seem like he was imposing. Now, he just wanted to kick himself. "Well, I thought you were going to be too busy and I didn't want to bother you. I guess I got it all wrong, huh?"

"Have you been keeping yourself out of trouble all this time? I know how you can get when you're bored to tears..." Klan said with some sarcasm in her voice.

"I may be off-duty from the NUNS, but you forget that I have a secondary job. I always manage to find something to do over at Bell-Casse, so I've been doing a good job of keeping myself from any kinds of destructive activities that you might suspect me to be guilty of at this point." Cal followed up his response with a very audible yawn.

"Oh man, don't start yawning. You'll make me start too; although I _am_ pretty tired right now."

"For some reason, I have this overwhelming urge to make you start yawning now... that's so weird!" Cal said with his usual mischievous tone, "Anyway, how's the test piloting going? Are you guys making some progress?"

"Yup! As a matter of fact, we might be finished with our current phase real soon... which is kind of why I wanted to call you. If all goes well, we'll be taking a few days off while we transition to the next phase-" Klan stopped mid-sentence as soon as she heard Cal yawning into the phone again, "Stop that!"

"I'm sorry, I am just tired! You said you might have some time off soon? That's great! I hope that everything goes off without a hitch for you."

"Yeah, this whole test-piloting thing has been such a great experience for me. I've thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of it and it's just a great feeling to be such an influential force on the production and perfection of the next-generation Queadluun. I'll see if there's anything that I am allowed to tell you about concerning the testing of the Rasa and we can swap stories with each other soon. Deal?" Klan asked. She waited for an answer, but received none. "Cal?" After another moment of waiting, she checked to see if the call had been dropped. However, the phone still indicated that the connection was active. There was still the white noise of the line, but she began to make out the sound of rhythmic inhaling and exhaling. That was all she needed to hear in order to deduce that he had fallen asleep with his PDA still on.

For some reason, she kept the line open for a good minute, listening to him breathing. Part of her hoped that he'd wake back up so she could give him a little bit of crap about falling asleep while she was talking to him, but she then felt like it just wasn't worth waking him up. However, she spoke softly into her phone, thinking that maybe he'd hear her subconsciously, "I sometimes wonder why you purposely go out of your way for me. But as the saying goes, actions speak louder than words. I can hear you loud and clear. I just wish it was that easy for me..." She stopped speaking for a moment before finishing her one-way conversation. "Goodnight to you. I guess I'll be talking to you again soon... whenever that is."

While he slept, the screen on Cal's PDA lit up once more, illuminating the side of his face where it rested. No doubt, it was displaying the "disconnected" message to him, indicating that Klan had hung up on her end. He remained motionless in his sleep while his breathing continued the same rhythm. The PDA then fell off of the side of his head and landed face-up on the bed, shining its light upwards towards his face. The touchscreen soon went dark from inactivity, once again returning the room to the level of darkness that shrouded everything before the phone call came in. Only Cal's breathing could be heard at that point.


	41. Business as Usual

A/N: Okay, much to your chagrin, I took awhile to upload this chapter. It seems like I'm apologizing for this with every new posting, doesn't it?

Well, a lot has happened and so I have good news and bad news to report. I'll start with the bad news. I work part-time as a pizza delivery driver and I broke my ankle a couple of weeks ago while making a delivery. If you didn't know, I live in Dallas and pretty much anyone who was keeping up with Superbowl-related activities before the game saw that we'd been getting hit with very wintry weather all of that week. However, I didn't slip and fall on ice or snow. I slipped on a wet marble floor after coming in from the snow. The assholes doing the building maintenance didn't put any signs out or put any rugs out to stop people from falling. I managed to save the order AND made the delivery on my broken ankle, even though I didn't know it was broken at the time. I simply hoped that it was just a bad sprain, since I had rolled it with all of my weight and the weight of 12 pizzas in my hands. So far, it's been a huge pain in the ass- I mean ankle. My foot and ankle were swollen and purple for days and only now is the skin returning to normal.

So, the good news is that I won't be able to work for at least a couple of months. Since I was on the job when I was injured, worker's compensation insurance covers my medical costs and lost wages. This means that I'll have an enormous amount of free time to do my schoolwork and get some writing done. The only downside is that this ankle is extremely distracting and it takes up a lot of my time because it needs to constantly be nursed. Also, menial tasks, such as going to the bathroom, changing clothes, and showering take a ridiculously long time and all that time adds up. I'm starting to get used to all of this, but now I'm falling behind in my schoolwork.

I'm about 90% done with Chapter 44 and that one's gonna be even BIGGER than 43. I predict that it will land somewhere in the vicinity of 17k words. I've been making good on my promises to speed up the story progression, but that means that there's a lot more material going into the chapters. So, basically... with this and the last chapter posting, I've written the equivalent of about 5 chapters, but squeezed them into two chapters... You'll see those two chapters when I post 43 and 44 in the future. I plan on finishing Chapter 44 and then putting the writing on the backburner for about a week straight so I can just focus on catching up on my schoolwork.

Also, my mother recommends that I go ahead and sue the building I fell in for negligence. All of this broken ankle business is turning out to be a massive inconvenience. My car has a manual transmission and I can't tell you how painful it was to work my clutch with a broken ankle when I had to drive myself home that day. Since then, my car is just sitting in my driveway and I have to get my family to pick me up and drive me around. I have a pretty good reason to demand additional compensation from the building, so I will have to get the paperwork rolling on that as well.

As soon as I can get all of my shit taken care of, I will have a lot of free time to write. The story is going to be picking up starting chapter 45. Just in case you all were thinking the story was staying in its doldrums for too long... That's why I decided to speed up the story pace. We'll be rounding the corner and on the home stretch for the final story arc soon! -(02/16/11)

* * *

Perched on a branch near one of the second story windows of Ozma's house, an eerily-familiar bird sang its many songs; almost as if those songs were being directed towards that nearby window. Through the opened venetian blinds, a mass of blankets could be seen occasionally tossing and turning.

Lying on his stomach with hands holding his pillow on top of his head in an attempt to block out the bird's songs, Cal immediately jumped up from his prone position. "Shit! What time is it?" he asked himself. He looked around for the clock that was supposed to be on the nightstand nearby, but it wasn't there. Neither was his PDA. He seemed perplexed for a moment while his brain tried to sort out the situation.

Cal sat up in his bed and put his feet on the floor in preparation to stand up, but he recoiled his feet after being poked by a sharp object on the floor. Upon looking down, he noticed that the remains of the alarm clock were spread about on the floor. Several pieces had broken off of the device, leaving it in a dormant state. It took a moment before he remembered why the alarm clock was on the floor and it reminded him of the phone call that he had received when he was trying to sleep. He frantically searched around for his PDA, but was initially unsuccessful at finding it. However, he found it buried under his covers after sweeping his hand through them. He read the time displayed on its screen and his eyes popped open in surprise.

A short while later, Cal came rumbling down the stairs, half-dressed and trying to juggle several items in his hands and arms. His hair was still wet from the quick shower and he was trying to put on his uniform shirt without dropping anything. The first thing he did was head into Ozma's kitchen and rustle around for some food. From the living room, Cal's commotion could be clearly heard as he fumbled with his breakfast. He soon emerged into the living room fully dressed, carrying a toaster pastry in his mouth while he tapped a message into his PDA before sending it.

"Sleep well?"

The sudden sound of Ozma's voice startled Cal, who was completely oblivious to anything going on outside of his own little world at that very moment. He didn't even notice Ozma sitting in the chair next to him while he quickly passed by on his way to the garage. Cal quickly gasped before gaining control of himself to respond, "Oh! Didn't even know you were there, Commander... Yeah, that bed was far more comfortable than my bunk on the ship and Will's air mattress, heh..." He nervously laughed, trying to mask his startled state from Ozma.

"Do you usually get up this late?" Ozma asked.

Cal finished texting on his PDA and put it away as he answered, "I'd rather get up earlier, to be honest. It's just that I had a rough night. I'll probably go to bed early tonight to get my sleep schedule back on track a bit."

"Yeah, don't make sleeping in a habit. We will be returning to duty soon. Make sure you keep your loose ends tied up while you're here... we might be leaving again after some time, as well."

Cal stopped for a moment and took in Ozma's declaration. "Um, do you know how much more time we have left before we get redeployed?"

"No, I can't say," Ozma said with an elusive smile, "Once we find out, we'll let you guys know."

Cal knew that Ozma was hiding something. "_Can't say or won't _say?" he thought to himself. However, he just smiled and acknowledged with a nod before he continued to the garage to get on his way.

A minute later on the highway while on the motorbike, Cal looked into his mirrors and noticed Ozma's Lancia Delta quickly approaching him from behind. Instead of politely negotiating with the slow motorbike, Ozma took it upon himself to have a little fun and zoomed around to the front of Cal, slowed down, and recklessly swerved a few times in front of him while honking his horn. The car's tires squealed a bit each time it changed direction. Ozma played around for a few moments before downshifting and stomping onto his acceleration pedal. Despite traveling at a highway speed, the Lancia Delta peeled out and quickly sped away from Cal's puttering motorbike.

Cal simply smirked at Ozma's escapades. "Damned showoff..." he laughed to himself.

…

Peering out of the large window from his office in the presidential mansion, President Mulcahy stood perfectly still while he reflected upon the images he was witnessing. Outside of the property's gates, crowds of demonstrators made well-known their grievances with his administration. He appeared to be reading the messages on their picket signs, since he was squinting at something in the distance.

"If there was some way to make these people understand what it is that we are doing... We wouldn't have to deal with this crap. Now, it even seems like the media has turned against us without any good reason," he said aloud while he continued to stare out of the window with his hands behind his back. He suddenly began to fidget his hands together and bounced on the balls of his feet just as he took a deep sigh. "If what you say is true, Commander, then we will have to act quickly. What do you need from us to get things rolling?" He then turned around towards the person to whom he was talking.

With an aura of confidence, Cathy stood at attention on the other side of the room. Between her and Mulcahy sat several of the president's advisors and a couple of military personnel, including Fleet Admiral Perry. "I've already outlined the logistics in my report, Mr. President. All I need is your approval to move forward with the plan," she confidently replied.

President Mulcahy turned around with a bit of an energetic look on his face. He glanced at the group of advisors and military officers to gauge their reactions. Most of them gently nodded, and those who didn't nod simply remained still; they appeared to abstain from making any decisions. However, he felt confident enough to give his answer, "Okay, go ahead and pull the trigger on this. Let us know if you need anything else. We're trusting you to handle this. I hope you realize that should you fail, we're all going to be in a world of hurt."

"Understood, Sir. I don't plan on letting anyone down," Cathy replied. She saluted to everyone in the room before checking Admiral Perry's demeanor. He seemed to be pleased with her work, which was exactly what she was hoping.

As she exited the room through the huge double doors, two security agents closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath and put herself back together before taking out a small package from her pocket. From which, she picked out a cigarette and placed it into her mouth.

Before she could light it, one of the agents standing nearby spoke up, "Ma'am, we don't allow any smoking in this building." Cathy was initially surprised and her reaction was a bit of frustration while the cigarette hung from her lips. She simply sighed, smiled, and walked away to look for the nearest exit.

Eventually finding a secluded spot outside of the building, she leaned against the wall as she finally got to light her cigarette. The first inhalation was calm, but lengthy. Before she could exhale, she was startled by the sudden appearance of a familiar voice.

"You're becoming more and more like your father every day, you know that?" Ozma said as he appeared from the other side of a nearby bush.

Cathy coughed a bit, since she didn't expect anyone to see her; Ozma was about the last person she'd want to see her while she indulged in her new habit. After she cleared her throat, she stood up and tried not to let her eyes water from the irritating sensation in her throat. "Ozma! You didn't see _nothing_, you hear?" she demanded. She was obviously embarrassed that Ozma has now seen her smoking, but she still defiantly took another drag. "Besides, he smoked cigars. I'm just having trouble finding ways to relieve my stress, that's all. I think I deserve a little break."

Ozma stood there watching her for a moment, but he eventually took a spot next to her and leaned against the wall. "Well, since the cat's out of the bag..." he casually trailed off as he took a pack of his own out of his coat pocket and lit one up.

Cathy gaped in surprise at Ozma's gesture. To this day, she had no idea that he had picked up the same habit as she had. However, she didn't feel so guilty about her forbidden activity all of a sudden. She smirked and looked forward as she put her hand up to her mouth to take another drag.

"So, what did he say?" Ozma inquired.

Cathy just forcibly exhaled to clear the smoke out of her lungs and picked her head back up to look at Ozma. Her subsequently confident smile was all he needed to know.

…

"No. Absolutely not," David Nguyen replied as he dropped a paper tablet onto his desk with an apathetic attitude.

Cal sat in the chair across from his desk, surprised at David's response. "Why the hell not? Is it really that much to ask to install a couple of small-bore laser cannons onto my RVF's battroid head?"

David leaned forward into his chair and stared directly into Cal's eyes. "_Yes_, it is. We'd have to alter the head's design so that it will fit correctly and won't interfere in the transformation process. Not only _that_, but it would require having to get permission from LAI to fundamentally alter their design... and I really don't want to have to deal with them any more than we are right now."

Cal just blinked as he sat still in his chair. He obviously didn't know of what had been going on behind the scenes.

David sighed in frustration after reading Cal's reaction. "They're not very happy about this whole issue with the flaw in their EX-gear and ISC system. I keep telling them otherwise, but they think that we've been holding back this information from them and they suspect that we're somehow threatening to blackmail them for our own financial gain. You should have notified them of your findings as soon as you found them out, Cal," he sighed once more, "They're sending a legal representative over here today to sort all of this business out once and for all."

"Damn, I had no idea that you guys had to play hardball with LAI over something like this. I guess that's why you wanted me here at this specific time today, huh?"

"You have no idea, Cal. LAI is a lumbering giant and it seems like we've bitten them in a place that actually made them have to stop for a moment to scratch. It's not every day that you find a fundamental flaw in their designs; they've got some real good people working for them." David sat back in his chair and started to twirl his pen in his hand. "Their rep should be here any minute now, so don't wander off. I want to make sure that this meeting goes off without a hitch. They requested that you be present so they can cover all of their bases in one trip. The last thing I want is to inconvenience them any more than we already have."

"Don't worry, I already relieved myself of nitrogenous waste before I came in here," Cal said with a slight laugh. For some reason, he didn't seem to be taking this situation too seriously as David had wanted. This time, _he_ leaned forward in his chair. "Now, I need a bit of a favor from you," he continued when he was sure he had David's attention, "How much time do you guys have left to finish your work on the Macross Quarter?"

David simply stared at Cal for a few moments of complete silence before he finally flinched. "What in the _hell_ are you talking about?"

A smile crept across Cal's face before he responded, "Come on... you guys are retrofitting the ship with a new active stealth system. I'm not asking for any details, I just want to know how long it will take before you're done with the project."

Once again, David was baffled... but this time, he wondered where Cal had come up with such information. "How do you know about that...?"

"Remember that time we came in here and you had the model set up on that table over there?" Cal asked as he pointed at the now-empty table at the side of his office, "Well, you had a bunch of mathematical equations scribbled all over the whiteboard. I knew I had seen some of those equations somewhere and it finally hit me the other day: they were also scribbled in the manuals for the active stealth system upgrades you guys installed on my RVF. I looked them up on the 'Net. Those were formulas that calculate radar cross-section, among other work you had on the whiteboard. I just put two and two together."

David just lowered his head since he had been found out. He snickered a bit, since he was amazed that Cal could remember such complicated formulae and then compare them to another visual reference some time later. "What, do you have a photographic memory or something?" he asked.

"No," Cal said while shaking his head and laughing, "I just made it a point to remember what it looked like so I could figure out what it was later. You'd be surprised at what you can make yourself memorize if you really want to."

"Don't even patronize me with that crap... you're talking to someone who grew up memorizing the strangest statistics for no apparent reason. It's what we engineers typically do..."

Suddenly, David's intercom came to life with the voice of one of his subordinates in another office. "David, there is a group of individuals from LAI here to see you. Should I show them the way to the conference room?"

David hopped up from his chair and responded into the speakerphone on his desk, "Yeah, tell them we'll be right there." He then walked around from his side of the desk and motioned for Cal to follow. "We'll talk about that a bit later. For now, let's get this over with..."

Just outside of the conference room doors, an NUNS officer stood waiting for Cal while she dangled her briefcase in front of her. As soon as she recognized Cal in his NUNS uniform, she perked up and approached him with an outstretched hand. "Ah! You must be Lieutenant Wagner. Pleased to meet you!"

Cal was surprised to see another NUNS officer there, but he had more difficulty negotiating with the handshake than anything else. He grabbed her hand, but instead of shaking her hand, he clenched his hand around her fingers; the way many women prefer their handshakes. She reacted by forcing her hand through his and grabbed his hand for a standard handshake. Cal realized his mistake and began to chuckle nervously, "Hi... uh, sorry about that, you can never be sure how a woman prefers to shake hands when you meet them..." he said while rubbing the back of his head with his other hand, "I swear I'm not some kind of chauvinist, or anything... ha ha."

The NUNS officer simply smiled and responded, "It happens all the time."

Cal finished his initial greeting and proceeded to ask the obvious question, "Whew! Well, Lieutenant... Banes?" he asked as he read her rank insignia and her last name from her uniform badge, "What brings you here?"

"I'm a JAG officer. I got a request from the Office of the Joint Chiefs to be here to represent you, since you are about to go into a meeting of a legal nature."

Cal seemed perplexed at her reasoning and just blinked in response. He then turned to David, who seemed to duck into the meeting room so he couldn't be asked the obvious question. Cal had another question that started to mill around in the back of his mind. "Lieutenant, from whom did you get the request to be here? It didn't happen to be a Commander Glass, did it?" Lieutenant Banes perked up in surprise and had taken in some breath to answer, but Cal stopped before she could utter a single word, "Wait... don't answer that. I already know who it was, somehow..." He turned around and rolled his eyes before proceeding through the double doors to the conference room. "_That woman seems to have her tendrils growing all over the place_," he thought to himself in reference to Cathy.

Once they entered the conference room, two well-dressed men were conversing with someone who sat in the chair in front of them. However, the chair was turned away from the entrance, hiding the identity of the person sitting down. Three briefcases and a laptop computer had already been laid on the table. The commotion from David, Cal, and Lieutenant Banes entering the room seemed to spook the three men in the room; stopping their conversation so that they could turn their attention to the three people who had just come into the room.

The chair swung around to reveal the individual sitting in it and he immediately spoke up to greet a familiar face. "Hi, Cal!" Luca Angelloni stood up from his seat, dressed in a formal business suit. He showed a hint of discomfort with his new threads since he quickly looked himself over when he stood up. He definitely wanted to make sure that everything looked right and straightened his tie before reaching across the table for a handshake.

Cal was pleasantly surprised at Luca's presence; both because he knew he could get a little bit of leverage from Luca through their existing relationship as wingmates in the same squadron, and because Luca also piloted an RVF. Ideas began to pop into Cal's head while he formulated the possibilities of getting his way after all was said and done. The young pilot's professional look was also refreshing to Cal, since he had always known Luca as somewhat inexperienced in piloting and life in general. "Well, look at you! Nice threads, Luca! Taking care of the family business, I see?"

A little redness showed up in Luca's cheeks, but he countered his initial reaction with a firm handshake. "Yep, my brothers felt that it was time for me to start taking a larger role in the company. They're determined to make a businessman out of me yet," he replied with a slight laugh.

Just as the initial greetings had finished amongst the meeting's attendees, another suited man hurriedly entered the room and took a seat next to David. He appeared to be Bell-Casse's legal counsel, since he began to casually remove several documents from inside of his briefcase and quietly spoke to David without letting anyone else hear what was being said.

Upon seeing that everyone was accounted for, Luca took the initiative to begin the meeting. "I've got a couple of other appointments to keep this afternoon, so I'll try and keep this short," he said as he immediately looked in Cal's direction, "Cal, I just want to ask you why you didn't notify me of your findings as soon as you noticed a problem with the VF-25. We're depending on pilots like you to find any flaws in our design. When you hold back your knowledge, everyone loses. You've been a test pilot for a few years now; you should know better than that!"

Cal was pretty surprised at Luca's bluntness on the matter. However, he couldn't deny the fact that Luca was 100% right. "I guess I can't argue with that logic; I screwed up and I'm not gonna make excuses. I just want you guys to know that there wasn't any ill-intent on me not saying anything about it," Cal replied. He turned to David as he continued, "David here knew exactly what to do as soon as I told him about it, and he's the only person I talked to about this matter- oh wait... I _did_ mention something to Klan, too." Suddenly, Cal realized the magnitude of his carelessness.

Luca attentively listened to Cal's response and nodded as Cal finished speaking. "Is that all? You're absolutely sure that they're the only two people to whom you've talked about this?" Cal's response was silent, but affirmative. Luca motioned to one of his accompanying lawyers with a hand gesture. "Let's start with some damage control, first," he said as one of the lawyers then placed a pair of documents onto the table in front of Cal and David.

"What's this?" Cal asked.

"This is a gag order," Luca responded, "We just need your promise that you will not speak of this matter to _anyone_ except myself or any other designated representative of LAI."

This all seemed to add to Cal's sense of failure and he nervously began to read over the document. Lieutenant Banes conferred with him about the nature of the gag order to make sure that Cal knew what he was signing. "Just as a piece of advice, try not to say _too_ much while you're in this meeting... more than you have to anyway, Lieutenant," she softly spoke to Cal.

With apprehension, Cal finally signed the gag order and pushed the paper back towards Luca's side of the table. David had already done the same, having already known about what this meeting was going to be beforehand.

Luca reached forward to collect the papers and continued with his statements, "I'll go ahead and contact Commander Klang to get her signature on a similar gag order."

Cal began to worry that Klan would come down on him pretty hard about inadvertently involving her in his mess. At the same time, he was wondering if she had returned his text message from earlier in the morning. One of the first things he wanted to do was to apologize for falling asleep on her while she was talking to him on the phone, but up to that point in the day, she had not responded to his text. He couldn't check his PDA right at that moment, either. His uniform was beginning to feel even stuffier as soon as he began to comprehend the scope of the problems he had created for himself, due to his failure to perform his duties as a test pilot.

Luca could tell that Cal was becoming somewhat distraught, but that wasn't the kind of reaction he wanted to get from Cal. "Try not to worry so much, Cal. I believe you when you say that you didn't mean any harm. Just make sure that it doesn't happen anymore, or I might not be around to diffuse the problem like this time." Luca sure did bring his adult demeanor with him to the meeting. Even Cal was somewhat surprised at the difference in Luca's attitude. "Well, since Bell-Casse and LAI have worked together on some recent projects, I think we can easily look past this slight oversight. I looked at your engineer's EX-gear design and everything looks great. You guys will have to work out any compatibility issues yourselves, though," Luca continued, "As a gesture of good intentions, I would like to ask you if there's anything else you think needs improving on the RVF? I'd definitely prefer to get any other issues worked out before we end up getting deployed again, whenever that may be."

This was Cal's chance to get his way, despite David's outright refusal to fill his request from earlier. "Well, Luca... We are currently focusing on ways to improve RVF pilot survivability, are we not?" Luca silently nodded. "I want to know if it's possible to install some small-bore laser beam cannons onto the RVF's battroid head. I'd like something else to fall back on for protection, in case I get disarmed."

Luca raised an eyebrow as he began to consider Cal's request. "Cal, I really don't think that giving you _more_ weapons is going to increase your survivability. In fact, I think that it will embolden you to get into even more fights. Remember, we're supposed to be _supporting_ our wingmates with targeting information, not engaging the enemy head-on." Luca's job as the lead RVF pilot in the squadron prompted his conservative response, despite Cal now outranking him.

"Yeah, but wouldn't you rather be prepared for anything to happen than to be caught unable to defend yourself from whatever it is that's heading your way? Remember that time you almost got shot down because you couldn't hit all of the incoming missiles with your gunpod? I bet you would have gotten them all if you had a little extra firepower to help you out."

"I see your point," Luca said with a sigh, "However, I have to push back a little bit on it, since I don't see most RVF pilots getting into as many fights as you do. I highly doubt that we'd even consider making that a permanent loadout, but I have no problem with allowing you to do a little bit of customization of your bird. You certainly have earned that right. Perhaps we can do something with your request and make it a possible custom variant for exceptional pilots such as yourself."

Cal was brimming with pride, both from Luca's agreement to fill his request, and from Luca's praise of his piloting skills. He couldn't help but look at David with a "see, I told you" look on his face.

Luca stood up from his chair and began to gather his things up to head to his next meeting. "Okay, I'll be in contact with you about that customization, Cal. Meanwhile, I have to get moving to my next appointment," he said with his new-found business-like demeanor. He turned back to Cal to speak again, "Cal, if you don't mind, can I talk to you in private about some squadron-related stuff?"

Cal agreed and turned to Lieutenant Banes to thank her for coming to help him out. _This_ time, he gave her the desired method of a parting handshake and saluted her as he turned to walk outside.

It was slightly windy and very chilly outside of the building, since the cold weather had set in long before. Luca and Cal stood outside in their coats, without anyone else nearby.

"Cal, I need a favor from you," Luca asked, "Nobody else needs to know about this, so don't talk to anyone about it... " He waited for Cal to nod in agreement. "It's come to my attention that someone has discovered a security vulnerability in the avionics and control systems of the VF-25. One of my watchdog programs I'd set up in the company server alerted me to a hacker who was snooping around in our company files a couple of days ago. Rather than stop him, I let him get to what he was looking for, which was the firmware for the control systems of the 25."

"Why'd you let him go?" Cal asked.

"I wanted him to think that he wasn't being watched... but he is. It's easier to catch an overconfident hacker, than a cautious one. This guy had some real balls to come strolling into _my_ servers and get what he wanted. Now that I know of his intentions, I can counter his efforts. What's really important is _who_ this guy is."

"Any ideas?"

"No," Luca shook his head, "...but I have to consider the worst possibility. We have enemies; and I don't mean industrial competitors..."

"Galaxy...?"

Luca nodded in response. "Those guys are quite dangerous, especially when it comes to computer technologies. However, their strength is also their weakness. Since they're so dependent on their technology and cybernetic enhancements, they're also subject to the same vulnerabilities as our own computer systems. I am actually kind of excited to face the challenge," Luca said as he rubbed his hands together and wore an evil grin.

"So... What does that mean?" Cal was a bit out of his league when it came to comprehending the workings of the computer systems he used every day. His confusion was quite obvious to Luca.

"I'm working on a new version of the firmware that will be more hacker-proof. Once I finish writing the firmware, we'll flash the hardware on your bird and then I'll need you to test it for any bugs."

"Well, what does that mean for everyone who hasn't gotten an updated version?"

"This is all a precautionary measure. I don't know what this guy has in mind with the firmware programming; he could just be a petty thief and nothing happens at all. However, _just in case_, I want to patch up any holes in the code."

Cal was starting to understand the concept a little better, after having thought about it for a moment. He folded his arms and had a question of his own to ask, "Well, I wonder why someone would want to hack into the computers of a variable fighter. Do you think it could be used as sort of a countermeasure in combat?"

Luca nodded with zeal, "Exactly. You know how we RVF pilots can use ECM to counter the V-9 Ghosts and cause them to behave erratically? If someone was able to hit you with a pulse, they could knock out your avionics."

"Is an electromagnetic pulse the only method of delivery? If so, can't we just physically shield the computers from such a burst?"

"The hardware is already shielded against most EM bursts, but I suppose if someone had found a way around those defenses..." Luca stared at the ground for a moment as he prepared to say what was going through his mind, "I'm actually thinking more of the possibility of actually hacking into the system to _gain control_ of your VF. If you can't beat 'em, just make 'em do what you want them to do."

"...and how would one go about doing that?"

"It would have to be achieved by physically connecting to your VF. One of the engineers at LAI had been tinkering with a sort of fragmentation bomb that would spray harpoon transmitters in all directions. If one of those got stuck into an enemy VF, it could inject a virus into the avionics and either render the systems inoperable, or give control to someone linked to those harpoons through a wireless connection. ...but that's just one of many possible methods of delivery." Luca quickly shook out of his dark and dreary monologue, "Anyway, I am just going off on a tangent, but I wanted to discuss this with you before I left."

"Why confide this stuff in me? I almost leaked a flaw of your company's next big cash cow back there," Cal said with brutal honesty.

"Well... I know you just made a small mistake. There's no harm done, so don't worry about that. All you have to do in the future is just watch what you say. The reason I trust you is because I know you're a good pilot and I might not be here talking to you today if it wasn't for the help you've given me over the past few months. We're both RVF pilots, but when I see you out there kicking ass in combat, it really makes me wish I could do the same. I may be a huge computer nerd and prefer to stay behind the lines to work my magic, but there are times when I want to do a little more to contribute," Luca sighed and took a breath after his long-winded response, "Let's just say that you give me a little bit of motivation to be a better combat pilot."

"That took a lot to admit, huh? Well, I have to tell you that I was impressed by your presentation in that conference room. If nobody has said it yet, I'll admit that you've done a lot of growing up in the past few months since I first met you." Cal firmly slapped Luca on the back in a gesture of mutual masculinity. "Alright, that sounds great, Luca. Let me know if there's anything you need from me. Otherwise, you can just let me know when you're ready to test it out."

"Thanks, Cal. I'll be sure to get that new head design ready for you guys to implement on to your new custom. Good luck with the new EX-gear, too. We'll be looking forward to the results and getting that monkey off our backs. The engineers at LAI probably have a picture of you on the wall at the lab and they throw darts at it daily," Luca concluded with a chuckle.

Cal smiled in response and let out a slight laugh. It was good news for him to hear that his piloting skills have become the bane of some egghead engineer group at LAI. However, it was even better news for him to hear that he'll be able to get his RVF customized a bit more to his liking so he can perform even better in combat. After Luca began to walk away, Cal suddenly remembered that he had texted Klan back that morning and quickly picked his PDA off of his hip to check for a response. Unfortunately, he hadn't received any messages to that point. He sighed and walked back into the building to find David and get moving on the day's testing schedule.

…

"You did _what_?" an exasperated Klan exclaimed as she shot up from her previously reclined position on the couch in her apartment. She directed her gaze towards Nene, who stood on the other side of the kitchen counter wearing an apron.

Nene acted surprised at her sister's reaction and waited a moment before answering. "What? I took Cal with us when we went to visit Mom a couple of weeks ago. What's the big deal?" She smirked as she looked back down towards the culinary concoction cooking in front of her. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing. "Don't worry, nothing bad happened..."

Klan glared at Nene with a mixed look of incredulousness and irritation on her face. "Are you kidding me? Mom would kill him if he showed any sign of his usual hard-headedness. What did he say to her?" Nene started to laugh, instead of immediately answering the question. Klan had little patience for games. "Well?"

"You should have been there," Nene started to say while laughing a little more, "He got upset about my mom being so picky about me being with Will, like she usually is, and literally called her out on her reasoning right in front of her." Klan was still looking over the back of the couch and her hands clamped down on the cushioning in front of her face while her eyes opened wide. Nene didn't seem to care about her reactions, though. "She got so upset at him over that, she tried to intimidate him with that notorious glare she has... Even then, he wouldn't budge and I kinda had to stop her from doing anything, you know... physical to him out of retaliation," Nene said while still laughing.

"That's not funny! What if she'd done something to him?" Klan said as she flopped back down onto the couch and put her hands over her face in frustration. "Thanks a lot, Nene! Now she's going to hate him for all eternity. She holds grudges like you wouldn't believe!"

Now was the perfect time to reveal the game plan. "Why? What difference does it make to you what Mom thinks of Cal? You don't seem to be in any hurry to pay him any kind of attention," Nene said with impeccable delivery.

Klan just became even more irritated at the unwelcome prodding into her personal issues. "I've been busy, woman! _You_ try balancing a social life with your duties when you've got to run your own squadron and you're involved in a hardcore testing environment in which you're trying to catch up with the schedule; which, by the way, we actually managed to achieve today..." she said while rolling her eyes.

"Calm down! I'm just trying to remind you, in case you might have forgotten what's going on outside of your career. That's great news that you're caught up, too. Does that mean you're going to have some free time now? Maybe we can arrange something for all four of us to get the old team together and have some fun."

"Perhaps you thought trying to change the subject would work, huh?" Klan rhetorically asked, "I'm well aware of the situation and I know exactly what I'm doing. Right know, I'm tired as hell and I think I'm going to spend the next few days catching up on all of the sleep I've lost in the last couple of weeks." Nene just smiled and shook her head as she continued working on the food cooking in front of her. Her smugness irked Klan even more. "What?"

"You just don't learn from the mistakes of your past, do you?" Nene asked. She stared at Klan to wait for an answer, but it didn't come immediately.

Klan closed her eyes and winced out of frustration. "You know, I am really getting tired of hearing people asking me that question." A detectable amount of anger was embedded in her voice.

"Oh really? Who else has asked you?"

Klan thought about her answer for a moment and realized that it wasn't really that a _lot_ of people were asking, it's that she's had that question nagging her from the back of her mind ever since she had dreamt about Michael asking that question. To her, it seemed like she's been constantly bombarded by it, even though it's just from her own subconscious. "Nevermind about that. I don't want to talk about it," she replied. She really didn't want to talk about how a dreamt-up apparition of Michael and her own paranoid consciousness were the sole sources. "I'm going into my room now..." she said as she hurriedly sat back up on the couch.

"Aren't you going to have any?" Nene asked in reference to the food she was cooking in front of her.

"No. Suddenly, I don't have an appetite."

"Oh, for crying out loud, just come and sit down and eat!" Nene demanded, "I promise I won't talk about it anymore if you just come and eat with me."

Klan started to inch her way towards her room, but she was considering the offer. Just as she turned away, her phone began to ring from its place on top of her bag next to the couch. Klan stopped and turned around to answer the phone on the other side of the room. She picked it up and after seeing the caller ID, she mumbled to herself, "Hmm, I wonder what he wants?"

Nene, incorrectly assuming who was calling, listened attentively to her sister answer the phone.

"Hi, Luca! How've you been?" Klan would pause for a moment after her every response to hear what Luca was saying to her. "Sounds like business as usual for you, huh?" ... "Sure, I've got some free time. What's up, Wonderboy?" She was starting to relax, after getting worked up from her conversation with Nene. She casually walked over to the kitchen counter and took a seat on one of the barstools across from Nene, who was standing on the other side, cooking. "Uh huh... Um, yeah he _did_ mention something like that to me. To be honest, I had completely forgotten about it until you mentioned it just now. Why? What's the problem?"

Nene casually served her sister a share of the food she had just finished cooking by laying a plate out in front of her and giving her some utensils. Even though she now knew who was on the phone, she still felt compelled to listen in. If, at this point, Klan didn't want Nene to hear what she was talking about, she would have left the room.

"He did _what_?" Klan suddenly said with an aroused demeanor. "That bonehead! He oughta know better!" ... "I know! So, what happened?" ... "Oh um, yeah. I guess. Does it _really_ have to be that early in the morning?" Klan was starting to look a bit frustrated at what she was being told. "I understand. Yeah, I'll be there. See you then. Bye." Klan hit the disconnect button on her phone and immediately began to scroll through her address book to make another call. However, she looked quite irritated while she glared at the screen on her phone.

Nene had to ask. "What's the matter?"

Klan didn't vocally answer, she just put her finger up to tell Nene that she'd be a moment. She put her phone up to her ear again and waited for an answer. Several moments passed before she clicked her tongue out of frustration. "Answer your damn phone, you little..." she mumbled. Another moment passed before she practically exploded into her phone's receiver, "Hey, Knucklehead! I just got a call from Luca telling me that you screwed up at work. Now, because you got careless, I have to get my ass up early in the morning to clean up your mess for you, when I was planning on sleeping in for a change. Tomorrow is probably the first day to be able to sleep in in a couple of weeks and now I have to get up early to meet with Luca. Thanks a lot, jerk!" Klan almost hung up, but remembered one other thing that's been bugging her as of late. "Oh yeah, and what's this business about you going and pissing off my mother? Do you have any idea how stupid that was? Now she's gonna make your life a living hell. You should hope she finds you before I do, because you'd be better off if it worked out that way. You'd better keep your nose clean from now on, or I'm gonna come looking for you to set you straight again!"

After disconnecting the call, she placed her phone on the counter and started to eat the food in front of her. Nene just stood there, surprised at the set of events that just happened in front of her. "What?" Klan asked with her mouth full of food.

Nene sighed and put one hand on her hip and used the other to lean on the counter. "Great job. Now he's _really_ going to want to call you back."

Klan didn't even look back up to answer Nene. She just continued to eat in silence, unable to find any reason to smile after that emotional outburst.

…

Later that afternoon, the locker room in the hangar at Bell-Casse was filled with the ambient sound of showers running in the next room. Cal's PDA sat on top of his duffel bag in a locker, and an occasional light would flicker on its touchscreen, to notify its owner of a voicemail. Suddenly, the locker door opened and Cal began to rummage through his locker to get his clothes out. Standing in the locker room wearing only a towel around his waist, he looked down and noticed that his PDA was alerting him to the message. Without any delay, he picked it up to see who had called, so he'd have an idea as to who had left a message. Upon finding out the caller's identification, he excitedly called his voicemail to get the message.

After a moment's wait in anticipation, he began to hear the message play, only to be surprised by a loud voice, "Hey, Knucklehead!..." He instinctively recoiled his head away from the PDA and winced in discomfort, before cautiously reapplying it to his ear to hear the rest of the message. Midway through hearing the voicemail, he mumbled to himself in dread, "Awww... shit..."


	42. Mounting Evidence

A/N: Yes, I'm already posting the next chapter. You got a problem with that? :p I didn't think so...

I finally finished writing Chapter 44 last night, and it's clocked in at an incredible 22k words! I decided that since I have 12k in Chapter 43 and 22k in Chapter 44, I'll go ahead and post this chapter. Essentially, I have enough content to fill almost five regular-sized chapters ahead of this one. Since Spring Break is coming up, I plan on getting at least one more chapter done during that week. That means that you'll probably see another posting within two weeks. Cool, huh?

My ankle is doing much better now and I'm able to walk on it, with minor discomfort. I still wear my boot when I get out of the house, but only for safety. I don't want to accidentally tweak it and aggravate the injury. Hopefully, I'll be cleared for work in a few weeks. I'm actually missing my job! I'm a strange one, I know...

So, I realized the other day that it's been almost a full year since I posted the first five chapters of this story on this site. I started working on it sometime last February, but it wasn't until March that I started posting it for you guys to enjoy. I can't believe that it's been a year now, and I want to thank all of you who have spent your time reading my work and posting your much-appreciated comments and reviews. There are some of you who have probably been reading my work since Day One, here on Fanfiction. Regardless of how long you've been following my work, I am just glad to be able to provide you all with something that you find rather enjoyable. My writing may not be Pulitzer-Prize material, but I do my best. In case you're wondering, I'm still a good ways away from completing the story, so there's plenty more to look forward to. I wonder what we'll all do with our time when it's finished...? I have some ideas for related projects, but I'll figure out some way to bounce them off of you guys to see if anything sticks. Until then... I'll keep on charging forward with this story.

Oh yes... I'm sure many of you are aware that the 2nd Frontier movie released in Japan recently. I haven't seen it, nor do I intend on finding out what happens until it becomes available on DVD/BD with subtitling. The impression I'm getting from other fellow fans is that it is pretty good, and they're all relatively satisfied with the movie's conclusion. It seems that I have a lot to look forward to. I just have to dodge spoilers until then. The next question is "What project are they going to be working on now?" This is supposed to be the last of the Frontier series, unless Shoji Kawamori changes his mind... and he's been known to break his own promises in the past... for the better, imo. Just as a disclaimer to those of you who know some of the details of the movie, if something I write in the future seems like it was ripped from the movie, it was purely coincidental and unintended. That disclaimer will expire once I've seen the movie, of course...

Okay, a couple of things to mention to you all, in regards to this chapter. The first is that I changed the name of a character I introduced a couple of chapters back. I initially didn't think that I would bring that character back, but I changed my mind as a couple of story arc ideas popped into my head. When I posted that chapter, I was in a hurry and just pulled a name off the top of my head and didn't realize how it was not a very good name to use. The name "Cale" looks too much like "Cal" in the text, so I changed his name to "Kaiel". It's close to his original name, but it looks and sounds different when reading it. It's pronounced like "Kyle", by the way. I'm gonna go back and change that name in the chapter text on the site. He'll pop up from time to time in the story... as long as he's still alive, that is. Oh, I'm sorry, did I spoil something? We'll see...

Alright, I'll let you guys get to the reading. Just remember: you have a 12k word chapter to look forward to in a couple of weeks! Now, I keep getting that nagging feeling like I'm forgetting to mention something else... I hate that feeling... -(03/05/11)

* * *

The mid-morning sun desperately tried to warm up the crisp autumn day, but the winds kept on blowing more cold air over the city. Regardless of the weather conditions outside, a cacophony of musical sounds emanated through the walls of Ozma's house, allowing mostly the lower-frequency notes to be heard from the outside.

Wearing nothing more than simple grubbies, Cal took advantage of the empty house to let loose his inhibitions. He had attached his PDA to Ozma's home theater system and used it to play the music tracks he had saved on the device. With the volume cranked all the way up, he stood in the living room near the kitchen pass-through, holding a broom in front of him and furiously strumming his hand across the bristles like he was holding a guitar. It was difficult to discern the music blasting from the speakers because the volume was so high, but it didn't stop Cal from getting completely lost in his own world of guitar-shredding and singing, even if it was just for pretend.

The track finally came to an end and he took advantage of the brief break in the action, leaning to his side to take a bite from the food sitting on the counter nearby. He still held onto the broomstick with one of his hands while scooping out of the bowl, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something in the doorway that shouldn't normally be there. He began to chew his food very slowly while he gradually turned his head to notice that someone had been watching him for an undetermined amount of time. He quickly recognized the individual from her green hair and maroon eyes.

Ranka couldn't help but hide her reaction to the amusing spectacle that had just taken place before her. She had one arm wrapped around her abdomen while she used her other hand to cover her mouth.

A deafening silence filled the room for a brief moment while Cal stood leaning over his bowl, holding the broomstick with one hand, his eating utensil with the other, and slowly chewing his food. All he could do was stare at Ranka while he tried to figure out some way of making himself literally disappear from sight and erase any semblance of his identity; that way, he couldn't be linked to the embarrassing behavior.

Suddenly, the next track began to blast from the speakers, startling Cal out of his catatonic state. He reacted by lurching for the stereo's remote on the counter nearby and turning off the system. Instead of disappearing into thin air like he had wanted, he slowly shrank down to the ground to bury his face behind arms, which were now wrapped around his knees.

"What... was that?" Ranka asked while trying to hold back laughter.

Cal could only look back and smile. He was turning beet red out of embarrassment, seeing as how one of the biggest celebrity personalities in the galaxy had just witnessed him taking part in something of a guilty pleasure. "Hi..." was all he could muster in response.

"Well, sorry for intruding on you there. You must be Cal. My brother told me that he was letting you stay at his place and to expect you to be here if I happened to stop by..."

Fortunately, the embarrassment was fading quickly. Cal began to regain his usual composure, despite being in the presence of someone who he'd seen so many times on television and even at the concert he attended before leaving the planet a few months before. Even though he wasn't a huge fan of hers, he still felt a bit uneasy being in her presence. The very thought of seeing someone famous in person gives most people the jitters, and Cal was no exception. "Yeah, I had anticipated that I might run into you after staying here for awhile. I just didn't think it'd turn out like this," Cal said with a slight laugh. He slowly began to stand up once more. He leaned the broomstick against the wall next to him and invited Ranka into the living room, since she was still standing in the doorway.

"Where's Ozma? Is he not here?" Ranka asked while she gradually approached the kitchen pass-through and took a seat on one of the barstools.

Cal had strolled into the kitchen, grabbing his bowl from the other side of the pass-through. "I don't know where he is. He was gone when I got up this morning," he said while rinsing his dishes off in the kitchen sink. His voice echoed off of the kitchen's solid surfaces.

"Aren't you military-types supposed to be up early in the morning?"

Cal chuckled as he answered, "I _should_ be getting up early, but I have been off-duty for awhile. I just get up to work my 'other job', which is test-piloting at a private company under contract with the Spacy. Commander Lee told me we'd be returning to duty soon, so I am supposed to be getting back onto my usual sleep routine. I just couldn't get out of bed this morning, though!"

"I guess I can relate," Ranka said in an effort to empathize. However, her work schedule generally kept her too busy to afford any time for sleeping in. She placed her arm on top of the counter and leaned forward with a mischievous grin on her face. "So... Are you hoping to get into the music business some day?" she asked.

"Oh, _hell_ no. I'm well-aware of how terrible of a singer I am. I'm very much a musical moron when it comes to instruments, too. I just like to pretend sometimes..."

Ranka laughed at his response. "Good, because I was going to tell you not to quit your day job!"

"Ouch, my pride!" Cal said, feigning a pain in his chest and grabbing at his heart. He then put his hand down and laughed. "Did you want a drink or something? I don't know when Commander Lee is going to be back, but you're more than welcome to stay and hang out... if you have the free time, that is..."

Initially, Ranka felt a little uneasy being alone in Ozma's house with someone whom she had never met before. She quickly convinced herself that Cal seemed like a nice enough guy. It couldn't hurt to get to know a little bit about one of Ozma's pilots. "I'll just have an ice water, if you don't mind."

Cal resembled a bartender setting up drinks for a customer from behind the kitchen pass-through. He even took the time to put a drink coaster out before placing Ranka's glass of water on it. He caught her looking at his disheveled clothing, though. "Sorry. If I had known that I was gonna have company, I would have worn something a little more reasonable," he remarked with a nervous laugh.

She simply smiled, shook her head, and took a sip of her drink. She didn't have to say anything to show that she really didn't care that Cal was wearing some grubbies. After all, she did kind of show up unexpectedly.

"So, how are you and Saotome getting along?" Cal asked in an attempt to make small talk.

"Hm? Oh, Alto... 'Okay', I guess. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason, really. I got to talk to him about you and Sheryl Nome while we were out on duty. He certainly thinks very highly of you both. I can't imagine being in his situation, though..."

Ranka became highly intrigued. Perhaps Cal could help shed some light on what Alto might be thinking, in regards to herself and Sheryl. "What do you mean 'situation'?"

"Well, it's just that he's got his career in front of him. On top of that, he has two exceptionally talented women pining for his attention. I don't know if I could handle all of that stress, to be perfectly honest. It's a lot to have to deal with. Me, I'm at a point where I have to start planning on what I will be doing for the next 10 years or so. Do I focus on my career, or do I focus on other things?"

To hear things said from that perspective made Ranka wonder if the "competition" between herself and Sheryl over Alto's attention was becoming destructive to his progression through life. Even _she_ desired a more straightforward path through life, rather than just playing it by ear from day to day. Some people enjoyed the uncertainty that each day brought, but she was more of a traditional person. It would be nice to know, for the most part, exactly what to expect around each corner and turn that her life would make.

Cal quickly realized that he was trying to impress his perspectives onto Ranka in a judgmental way. "Ah, don't listen to me. You guys are all young and you have a few years to mess around and have some fun, if you so choose." He laughed at himself before he continued, "Here I am, sounding like some old man giving out advice and I'm only twenty-two years old myself. Let's just say that your perspectives and priorities never stay the same as you progress through your life. What seems great now will seem like a complete waste of time in the future. Hindsight is always 20/20."

"Are you saying that I should confront him about the situation? Make him choose between one of us?"

Cal's eyes popped wide open. "I can't answer that question and you know it..." he said with a nervous laugh, "I will say this, though... Saotome seems to not really mind that much. That's just the impression he gives me. Because he attributes so much of his motivation to you two, I think he kind of needs you both in his life. However, maybe even _he_ doesn't know how long that will continue to be his priority."

Although she didn't really want to give it much thought, Ranka simply sat on the barstool with a pensive look, propping her head up with one arm on the countertop. "Honestly, that doesn't really help clear anything up for me."

"My advice is about as good as a fortune cookie's, huh?" Cal candidly admitted.

"Well, even _those_ can be open to interpretation sometimes."

Following her generous response, there was a brief silence as both of them tried to think of something witty to say. Unfortunately for Cal, time was against him. "Damn," he said as he noticed the time on the digital clock in the kitchen, "Listen, I have to get going to my other 'job'. You're more than welcome to stick around and wait for Commander Lee."

Ranka thought about it for a moment, but she had a feeling that Ozma wasn't about to just show up in the middle of the day like that. "Nah, I'll just be on my way, then. Thanks for the company, though!"

Cal had been slowly drifting out of the kitchen and towards the stairs to get to his room. "Don't be a stranger. I'm sure Commander Lee would appreciate it a lot if you came by to visit him a little more."

"Yeah... Yeah, I think you're right about that," Ranka said as she realized that she had, in fact, been neglecting the man who'd spent the last 12 years raising her, even though she was not his own. "Well, it was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll run into you again sometime soon."

Cal poked his head back into the living room to respond, "You too! Hey, if you see Saotome, see if he'll bring you with him to the squadron picnic this weekend. We've got some fun stuff lined up, if you have the time."

"We'll see..." Ranka said with a wave before Cal finally disappeared out of view.

…

"I still don't see what the point is in buying one of those things," Will whined as he reclined in the metal chair upon which he was sitting.

He and Nene were in the food court at a shopping mall in Frontier City, resting after probably doing a lot of walking... and shopping. Nene's side of the table was surrounded by several large bags full of goodies, while Will had a simple plastic bag set next to his feet. It was easy to tell who was doing the most shopping. Will reclined in his chair and put his arms behind his head while he looked up at the sky. Nene, who was in her miclone form, was busily unpacking the contents of a couple of boxes, reading from a manual at her side while she assembled a few pieces onto the finished product.

"I already told you: we need to start preserving our memories as early as possible and this thing is gonna help us with that," Nene said as she snapped the cover shut on the new video recorder that she was holding. She then pointed it at Will, who was still staring upward. "Okay, you're on. Say something; let's see how well this thing works."

Will looked back towards Nene and then stared directly at the camera, but he didn't say anything for a few moments. He finally uttered a response, "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what to say to this thing," he said with a laugh.

Nene sighed in frustration while she looked downwards at the screen on the camera, but at least he said something and the picture seemed to be coming in nice and crisp. "Well, despite your obvious lack of enthusiasm, it looks like it works just great!" Nene said with a hint of sarcasm. She began to place the wrappers and packaging back into their respective boxes before placing those boxes into one of her many bags.

"You know I hate having my picture taken. It just seems so... fake, when you have to pose for a picture. I'd rather just not know that I'm being filmed or photographed. Being captured in the moment is much more interesting, if you ask me," Will stated. He certainly wanted to make sure that he wasn't coming off as a complete party-pooper. Nene did seem to be excited about purchasing a video recorder and using the heck out of it. "Why such urgency over the matter, though?" Will asked, "We have our whole lives ahead of us."

"If it's one thing I learned from my mother, its that if you take lots of pictures during your life, you'll have so much more to remember when looking back on your past. She and my father took many photos of myself and Klan while we were growing up and I enjoy _so_ much being able to see my childhood as an adult now. The same holds true for us now; these are the greatest times of our lives, and it would be a crime to not chronicle it in some way," Nene said as she finished clearing off the table in front of her. She then propped her chin up on top of her folded hands while she glared directly into Will's eyes with a dreamy smile.

"I suppose," Will said as he tried not to roll his eyes in response, "Where's your sister been, anyways? Has she talked to Cal lately? ...which reminds me, that asshole hasn't come by to visit me yet, since he moved out." His face briefly showed frustration over the situation.

"I really don't know," she replied with a laugh, "Those two are driving me up the walls."

"You too?" Will exclaimed, "It's like those two are a couple of schoolkids..."

Nene smiled and nodded in agreement, "It looks like you and I are going to have to do some 'encouraging' once more." She then looked down at the camera sitting on the table in front of her and began to fiddle with it again.

Will turned his attention to the camera as well, but he still wanted to complain about the legitimacy of its purchase. "Who's going to want to watch old videos taken of us when we're still young and dumb?" he asked with a goofy laugh.

"I'd prefer to capture us in the days of our youth, for... you know, future generations to be able to see," she said with a serious, but suggestive tone.

Will froze in place for a moment when he heard those words coming from Nene, but he quickly moved to dismiss such inane babble. "Don't even go there! You'd better not be-"

Nene immediately broke from her serious demeanor and began to laugh. "Got you going there for a sec, didn't I?"

Will sat in place with his mouth still open from stopping mid-sentence before he folded his arms and sat back in his chair with an angry look on his face. "That's not even funny. You don't joke with a guy about that, okay?"

"Oh, come on you big baby. Admit it... you're secretly disappointed," Nene said. She just didn't feel like letting up on her assault. She simply laughed while Will gave her the silent treatment and continued looking away in a pout.

…

The lunchroom inside of the hangar at Bell-Casse only showed sporadic signs of life, since it was well past the usual lunchtime. A handful of technicians and engineers occupied a couple of the tables together, but Cal decided to sit alone at another table in the room. He stared blankly at the ceiling while he chewed on a candy bar and reclined in his seat with one arm over the backing. Suddenly, he was interrupted from his train of thought.

"Mind if I join you?" Kaiel said, standing next to the table in his miclone form.

Cal nodded towards the chair across the table from him. He took a mental note of Kaiel's look of boredom while sitting down in the chair, "Got nothing to do right now, huh? Are they still goofing around with your Queadluun?"

"Yeah... but most of the techs are working on your RVF right now. What are they doing?"

"They're installing a new-type EX-gear, but they keep telling me they're running into bugs. Honestly, I don't even know why they told me to come in today. I've been sitting around, bored off of my ass all afternoon. I could be at home right now- Oh, you won't believe who I got to meet today and had to leave to come to work," Cal said with noticeable frustration in his voice. Apparently not needed at work, he could have been taking some time to get to know Ranka a little better, if he had known ahead of time of his uselessness there that day.

Before he could continue, one of the office workers poked her head into the lunchroom. "Cal! There's an NUNS officer here with a package for you."

"Oh? Okay, thanks!" Cal replied as he stood up to leave the lunchroom and get his package. "Finally, something to do. I wonder what they have for me..." he remarked to Kaiel as he walked towards the doorway leading back into the hangar. However, just as he came into view of the hangar, he recognized a familiar figure waiting outside, holding a package. "Shit!" he gasped, darting to the side to hide behind the wall next to the doorway. He had pinned himself against the narrow wall between the doorway and the countertop, which held the coffee-makers and sink.

Kaiel watched his reaction and raised an eyebrow to show his curiosity. He slowly got up and started to walk towards the doorway while looking at Cal as if he was crazy. "What's the matter? Who is it?" he asked. Cal didn't answer; he just stood straight up against the wall, as if he was hiding. Kaiel peered out the doorway and took notice of the one person whom he didn't recognize standing around in the hangar outside of the lunchroom. "What? _Her_? It's just a little girl with blue hair. Why's she wearing an NUNS uniform?" he asked of Cal, who was now right next to him.

"She's _not_ a little girl. Don't judge her by her appearance; she's one of the most temperamental people you'll ever meet. You mess up around her and she'll be the first to shove her foot up your ass to set you straight," Cal replied. He didn't dare move from his spot.

Kaiel simply laughed in disbelief. "What? Bullshit... You're telling me that you're scared of a little girl, Cal? ...and here I thought you were a fearless, formidable pilot," he chided.

"Whatever. You don't know what you're talking about," Cal said as he smeared both of his hands down his face, "Why'd it have to be _her_...?"

"So, why are you scared of her?"

"Because she's pissed off at me right now. I have no clue as to why she's here, but I know that I'm about to get an earful from her."

"You're such a wuss," Kaiel said with a laugh.

"Fine! If you don't believe me, then go see if you can get that package from her for me."

"Alright, I will!" Kaiel smiled with confidence and then left the doorway to head towards Klan, leaving Cal still standing against the wall just around the corner.

Klan stood in an open area of the hangar while she waited for Cal to come out from wherever he happened to be at that moment. She noticed Kaiel standing in the doorway leading to the lunchroom, talking to someone out of view, before he turned and started to head in her direction. As Kaiel got closer to her, she leaned to the side to try and see around him, hoping that she'd be able to identify the individual to whom he was talking.

Cal continued to stand straight up against the wall when he overheard Kaiel start to talk to Klan, "Hello, little girl. Cal is in the john and he sent me here to get his package for him."

As soon as Cal heard Kaiel make the "little girl" comment, he tensed up and gasped in reaction. "Kaiel, **no**!" Cal exclaimed as he jumped into the doorway and made a dash towards the unwitting Zentran pilot.

"'Little girl'?" Klan angrily asked of Kaiel. Unfortunately, it was too late. Klan had already managed to reach up and drag him downwards by his pointed ear. She then grabbed his shirt by the collar and bunched the cloth up in her fist, putting his face into hers. Kaiel's facial expression was priceless: surprise and horror all mixed into one. He stammered in pain as she held his head down closer to her level.

"I am _not_ a little girl," she seethed through her clenched teeth, using Cal's exact words from a moment before. "Why _else_ would I be wearing an NUNS uniform?"

"Oh-kay! That's enough of that...!" Cal declared while rushing up to separate the two. He grabbed Klan's hands and squeezed them so she would loosen her grip a little bit. He then let go of her hands and helped Kaiel stand up straight again before turning the Zentran pilot's shoulders towards the lunchroom and patting him on the back to get him walking forward. "Next time, you'll listen to me, right? Now, off you go!"

Kaiel dragged his feet back towards the lunchroom, looking like a sleepy ogre. A couple of the employees who had been eating in the lunchroom now stood in the doorway to watch the exchange that had just taken place. They found Kaiel's demeanor to be quite comical and snickered at each other as he approached them.

Cal turned back towards Klan with an apprehensive smile. "Klan... what are you doing here?" he said with a nervous laugh.

Klan didn't immediately respond. She simply saluted Cal and cleared her throat; her way of telling him to return salute in kind.

"Sorry," Cal said as he saluted back. He relaxed his posture after Klan put her arm down.

"You need to maintain military courtesy when we're both in uniform or on-duty, Lieutenant. You may be working with civilians right now, but remember that you are a representative of the NUNS and of your squadron while you are here," Klan said as she began to look Cal's uniform and appearance over. "Stand at attention, please."

Cal was already confused at her behavior, but he had no choice but to acknowledge. "Yes'm."

Back in the lunchroom doorway, Kaiel massaged his ear while watching Cal and Klan from afar. David Nguyen appeared from a nearby hallway and began to walk towards the lunchroom when he noticed Cal standing at attention near the opened hangar door. After a quick double-take, he approached Kaiel with an inquisitive look on his face. "Who's that? Why is Cal standing at attention?" he asked.

"I have no idea. I guess she's his boss, or something. When he first saw her here, he seemed to be scared of her..." Kaiel responded. He finished rubbing his ear and put his hand down to his side.

"Cal was _scared_ of her?" David asked, "She's just a little girl, though."

"That's what I thought, too, but... I don't wanna talk about it," Kaiel said. The other technicians who had been watching started to quietly laugh at him again. "You guys shut up," he demanded.

After fixing a couple of anomalies on Cal's uniform, Klan smacked her open palm onto Cal's stomach, "Straighten that back out." After hitting him on the stomach, she changed her facial expression into that of curiosity and began to gently pat his abdomen. "Getting soft in the midsection, are we? What the hell is Ozma doing with you guys? I'm gonna have to have a talk with him about this. He's letting his pilots get fat and lazy. Have you started getting up at your usual time yet?"

"Yes'm..." Cal trailed off.

Klan detected the lack of confidence in his statement and stared into his eyes for a reaction. As soon as she noticed that he was holding back a smile, she knew that he was fibbing. "Are you _trying_ to piss me off, or something? Try that again. Have you been getting up at your usual time?"

Cal thought about his answer for a moment before speaking again. "No, Ma'am."

"That's better. Didn't I warn you about that? You _did_ get my message, right?"

"Yes'm."

Klan then realized that she was only going to get more upset if she kept on poking into Cal's habits. "At ease." Cal relaxed his stance once more. "So, let me get this straight... you've been sleeping in lately, your uniform is not quite up to par, you seem to have forgotten military courtesy protocol, and you lied to me about sleeping in. Tell me why I shouldn't be stomping your guts out right now?"

He thought for a moment before answering, "I have no excuse, Ma'am." Even though Cal was getting upset that Klan was treating him like a grunt again, he couldn't deny that she had good reason to be checking in on him. "Permission to speak freely?" he asked. Klan nodded in acknowledgment. "Why _aren't_ you already doing so? The Commander Klang from a few months ago would have already jumped down my throat by now." Cal thought he'd use a clever way of getting her to be more honest and forthcoming with him.

Klan stammered for a moment while she tried to think of a proper answer to give. However, it just frustrated her even more; but a bit of redness began to find its way onto her cheeks. She quickly shook the feeling of discomfort and began to firmly poke her index finger into Cal's chest. "Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky that I am _not_ that version of myself, instead."

"I _am_ grateful, Ma'am," Cal said. He knew exactly what he was doing and he was getting away with it, too.

Putting her hand back down, she shoved the package that she had been holding into Cal's stomach with excessive force. Cal grunted in reaction before she continued speaking, "This is from Luca. He asked me to deliver this to you after I had my meeting with him this morning... Which, by the way, you owe me **big** for. I had plans on sleeping in today and you ruined that for me, so thanks."

"I'm sorry! I just messed up, okay?" Cal said with frustration. However, Klan didn't like his attitude and narrowed her eyes while staring at him once more. "...Ma'am...?" Cal finished. She then relaxed her stance once Cal demonstrated the proper courtesy to her. He looked the package over and had to inquire as to its contents, "What's in it?"

"I have no idea. He says that you should have everything you need in there. That's all he would tell me, though." Klan shifted her sight towards the doorway, where she noticed that they were being watched. "Were you, uh... Were you hiding from me in there?" she said with an evil grin on her face.

"No-" Cal stopped midsentence to think about his answer, but Klan had already reacted to it.

"Calvin!" she exclaimed as she jabbed him in the stomach again.

"Alright, I was hiding!"

"Why would you want to hide from me?"

Cal was obviously embarrassed at his upcoming answer, "Because I know you're pissed off at me. I was hoping you'd have time to cool down before you could find me."

"The Lieutenant Wagner from a few months ago would have never dreamed of letting me intimidate him. What happened?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Things got different between us. It's not that I'm intimidated," he replied, "It's respect. It's because I now care what you think about me. I know that if I mess up, you're gonna be the first one to point it out to me... in your own little way." Cal waited for Klan to respond, but she seemed too flustered to say anything; it was as if she couldn't figure out how to deal with his statement. He felt like maybe he'd said something a little too personal and sought to end the silent discomfort demonstrated from her. "Well, thanks for bringing this to me, Commander," he said, tumbling the small box in his hands, "I'm glad you came to see me."

"I didn't come here to see you; I just came to deliver the package," Klan said. She folded her arms and turned away so Cal couldn't see her face. "I'm glad I did come, though... because I got to see that you're getting to be a bit undisciplined. So, don't be getting any of the wrong ideas, okay?"

"Umm... okay..." Cal seemed disappointed at her answer.

"Listen, I have to get going. You still owe me for making me get up early this morning. I'll have to figure out a way for you to pay me back for it. See ya..." Klan said as she nonchalantly saluted and began to walk away.

"Bye..." Cal said with disappointment in his voice. "_Man, what was that all about?_" Cal thought to himself while he watched her walk out of view. He then sighed and turned around to see a small group of people watching him from the lunchroom doorway with accusing stares. "What?"

…

The faint sound of chamber music gently floated through the air and hung over a myriad of computer equipment spread over a couple of large desks placed next to each other in a small office room. Luca's brown hair could be seen poking up from behind his large computer monitor. Several computer units were stacked on top of each other next to the monitor, each with a plethora of cables running out from their backsides to parts unknown. The sound of rapid typing could be heard intermittently as he would occasionally lean to the side to read from an open manual next to him.

Although he was buried deep in concentration concerning his work, he was not the only person in the room working hard on their passion. Nanase sat in her chair just a few feet behind him, with her desk set perpendicular to Luca's. She had a computer of her own set on her desk, which was the source of the music playing in the room. She reclined in her chair while resting her legs up on the desk to the side of her monitor with a digital tablet resting in her lap. Each skillful stroke with the stylus in her hand translated into another line on her current work of art, which was concurrently being displayed on her desktop monitor.

Following a long, uninterrupted programming session, Luca aggressively rubbed his eyes and inched his chair back away from the desk. He turned to see the progress on Nanase's work and casually rolled his chair towards hers. "How's it coming?"

"Still a couple more layers left to create and add in," Nanase replied. "I'm just experimenting with a couple of effects right now. Unfortunately, I can't quite seem to find one that works the way I want it to." She carefully placed the stylus into its holding space on the tablet. She then laid the tablet back onto the desk and sat back up in her chair.

Luca wore a confused look on his face while attempting to identify her work. "What is it?" he asked, slightly tilting his head to the side an a vain effort to decipher the image on her monitor.

She began to touch her monitor to command the computer to save the file and upload it into the attached portable storage device next to the keyboard. "You'll see when it's done. Trust me, it'll be worth the wait."

Slightly disappointed, Luca turned back around and scooted his chair back to his desk to stare at his monitor for a moment. "Oh... Okay." The difference between the vivid colors of her monitor and the cold-hard text of his monitor made him wish that he had the ability to make drawings seem to come to life like Nanase could. He propped his head up with one arm and repeatedly tapped one of the keys on his keyboard, causing that character to repeat on his monitor.

"Well, it's getting late," Nanase said with a strained voice. She was leaning back in her chair, stretching out as far as her bones would allow. "I'd better get home. My mom's probably wondering when I'm going to be back home. Don't want to keep her guessing. Did you want me to turn off the music?" she asked with her elbow on the desk's edge.

Luca began to hit the backspace key on his computer to clean up the mess he had just made in his code editor on the screen. "No, you can leave it on."

Before he could finish removing the anomalous characters from his work, Nanase had already approached his chair from behind and pushed down on the backing to make it recline. Luca looked upwards to see Nanase's face upside down to his own. After sharing a couple of short kisses, Nanase backed her head up. "Good night!" she said as she started to move towards the door.

"Hey," Luca interjected, "I'll walk you out."

Nanase had just finished putting her tablet and storage device under her arm to take home with her. "That's okay, I know you're busy. I'll find my way out. Thank you for offering!" she replied.

Luca had just gotten out of his chair and was still hunched forward with his hands on the armrests. "Oh. Goodnight, then." He smiled as Nanase acknowledged him and then left his sight, leaving him alone with the sound of music still playing from Nanase's computer. He spent a moment staring blankly at the doorway before he spun his chair around and began to maneuver his cursor to the correct place on his monitor.

A brief look at the opened manual next to him, and he began to tap some more code into his editor on-screen. Only a few moments passed before a smaller monitor next to him gave three quick, successive chirps. A warning prompt appeared on the smaller monitor, catching Luca's immediate attention.

"Ah, It's _you_ again, huh?" Luca seemingly said to the monitor. However, he wasn't speaking to his computer, but the cause of the warning displayed on the screen. He turned his chair to get positioned in front of a second keyboard, which was connected to the other computer. "Let's see what you're after _this_ time, pal," he said, typing in several commands at a very fast rate. He began to search the monitor over with his eyes, looking for possible answers to his questions.

After a moment of ponderance, he decided to pick up his cell phone and make a call. Following the standard wait time for someone to pick up, he got right to business. "Miss Cathy? Yeah. Sorry, to call you so late in the evening, but he's in my system again."

"What is he after?" she asked.

"I don't know yet. He just got into the systems a moment ago. What should I do?"

"Just watch him, Luca. Let him get whatever he wants, but I want you to trace the source as quickly and as accurately as possible. Slow him down if you want, but don't make him aware that he's being tracked, or he'll terminate his connection and we won't get any idea as to who this guy is."

Luca couldn't bear the thought of letting someone trample all over the computer systems that he had a bit of a hand in creating in the previous months. "But Miss Cathy, I can't just _let_ him stroll into my computers unabated. It's like letting a stranger come into your house and touch all of your stuff!"

Cathy sighed before she responded. "Luca, I can only try to understand how you feel, but this is important. You'll get your chance to vindicate yourself later. Right now, we're just collecting information so we can move forward with as much confidence as possible. I'm counting on you, okay? Trace him, but don't resist him _too much_, or he'll be gone forever."

Luca winced as he acknowledged her orders. "Yes, Ma'am. I'll do my best." He put the phone down after terminating the call and took a deep breath to think for a moment. He then put on a wry grin and placed his hands over his keyboard. "She said not to resist him _too much_. That doesn't mean I can't play with him a little bit; see what makes him tick," he said to himself.

He then reached up and to his side to toggle a couple of switches on his devices before diving into his plan. He spent a few moments setting up his first virtual obstacle in cyberspace. Once he completed that task, he moved on to another obstacle, continuing this process while watching how the hacker circumvented every trap that Luca had set. "You certainly seem familiar with these systems. Let's see how you like this one."

Luca seemed to enjoy toying with his prey, even though he had no intention of striking at it. He worked to place breadcrumbs for the hacker to follow, and took satisfaction in the fact that he was getting his way. However, once he felt confident that he had guided the hacker into a dead end, his computer chirped at him once more and a new prompt appeared on the screen.

The message contained in the prompt was enough to cause Luca to drop his hands into his lap and throw himself back into his chair, which rolled backwards a few inches because of the application of force from the front side. "How the hell...?" He rhetorically asked himself.

Feeling slightly defeated, Luca picked up his phone and called Cathy again. "This guy is a pro. He was distracting me the whole time so he could get at his goal without me being able to get in the way," he said.

"So, he's already in and out of the system? Did he get what he was looking for?"

"He knew I was trying to stall him and he must have set up some kind of automated dummy hacker to keep me busy while he got to what he was looking for. He's pretty good..." Such an admission from Luca probably had a lot of weight, considering Luca was well-versed in setting up network infrastructures.

Cathy remained silent for a moment as she waited for Luca to elaborate. However, she could tell that he was being quite succinct about things at that moment. "Okay, just make a report and have it sent to me as soon as possible."

Luca acknowledged and threw himself back in his chair. He could only sit there staring at his monitor with a look of incredulousness and shaking his head in slight disbelief. All he could muster was a bit of a laugh to keep himself from feeling somewhat unsuccessful in his endeavor. However, he did accomplish a little bit of his purpose in being able to trace the source. Luca then began to log the event on a paper notepad nearby, so he could physically pass the information on to Cathy without anyone else being able to sniff it off of a network connection.

…

Aside from the faint sound of slow breathing, a perfect silence filled Cal's room. Dim light shone in through the venetian blinds over the window; most likely light being reflected off of one of the moons in orbit around Aimo. Despite the calm conditions, the incumbent peace and serenity quickly gave way to a cacophony of metallic clattering and raised voices.

Cal's door burst open, allowing the hall light to flood into his room and shine directly onto his face. Brazenly entering the room, Klan held a cooking pot by one handle and banged a metallic spoon on the inside of the pot in a circular motion. "Get up! Get up! Get up! We'll have no more sleeping in around here!" she barked out loud.

Naturally, Cal responded by jumping up from his prone position and squinting into the bright light now shining into his eyes. He didn't need to be able to see Klan to know it was her. Fighting off the adrenaline-fueled heartbeats in his chest from the surprise, Cal quickly let her know that he did not appreciate the rude awakening. "I hear you, dammit! What the hell are you doing in here?"

Klan put the pot and spoon down to her waist, but she still kept the same volume of voice. "I talked to Ozma last night and he told me you were still sleeping in. I know I told you to start waking up early, but here you are sleeping in again."

Cal still had no idea what time it was at that moment and it was still dark outside. He turned to see the time on his PDA, which sat in its recharging cradle on his nightstand nearby. "It's not even four in the morning yet! I set an alarm on my phone," he declared.

"Well, it's past four now and you're still asleep."

Just as Klan finished her sentence, the PDA began to rhythmically chime and the screen lit up to display the time of four AM. After dismissing the alarm, Cal confidently turned his gaze back towards her. "See? I _did_ set my alarm."

Frustrated by his smug attitude, Klan refused to back down. "Well, _my_ clock says that it's a couple of minutes past four. You need to set your time to the _correct_ time."

"My PDA is synced with Galaxy Standard Time. It can't be wrong."

She fumed for another moment after his reply. There was _no_ way she'd admit that she was wrong. "I said that _my_ clock says that it's a couple of minutes past four. _My_ clock is right, no matter what, got that?"

Cal scoffed and then laughed as he rolled over and sat up on his bed. "Whatever." At that point, his eyes had started to become used to the light and he reached over to turn his lamp on.

Now illuminated from the front, Klan could be seen sporting something of a sweatsuit. It was cold outside, for sure, but she wasn't wearing your usual cold-weather gear, such as a coat and scarf. "Get your running shoes on. We're going for a little run. After that, I have something of a special mission for you. Chop Chop!" she barked, clapping her hands together to get Cal moving.

Already annoyed, but intrigued, Cal sat on the edge of his bed with both of his hands to the sides to prop up his torso. He looked at her with narrowed eyes, but immediately got up and grabbed some clothes before heading across the hall and into the bathroom. Just as he stepped out of his room, he noticed Ozma leaning against the wall in the hallway with his arms crossed. He didn't say anything, but Cal stopped for a moment with his hand on the doorknob to stare at Ozma and see if he'd say anything about it. A moment of silence passed before Cal proceeded into the bathroom with a smirk on his face, slamming the door shut behind him.

Ozma continued to stand perfectly still in the hallway for the next few moments. Inside of the bathroom, the faucet could be heard running. Several seconds passed before Klan casually strolled out of Cal's room and into the hallway. She, too, stopped and looked at Ozma. Except she _did_ say something to him. "What?"

Ozma finally cracked a smile and tried not to laugh. "This certainly seems to be important to you, whatever it is. What's the occasion?"

Klan continued to glare at him with accusation. "I'm here because your pilots are getting fat and lazy. If you're not gonna keep them in shape, someone's gonna have to!"

"So, I take it you're planning on doing this for _all_ of my pilots?" Ozma said with obvious sarcasm.

"I don't have that kind of free time. I'll just start with this one," she said, pointing her finger at the bathroom door nearby.

"Why _him_? Is there something I need to know about you two?"

Klan took a few steps closer to Ozma before answering. "Because I told you that I would be the one to finish his training. The last time I checked, he's not done."

"You _do_ know I already promoted him, right?"

"I said 'he's not done' with his training!" Klan confidently stated. Her aggressive posture just made Ozma laugh.

Unfolding his arms and using his shoulders to push his body off of the wall, Ozma took a couple of steps away to get more space between himself and Klan. "Whatever. Ever since I put you two together, you've been acting very strangely. Your efforts to cover up your true motives are becoming more obvious every time I see it. You can't keep up the subterfuge forever, Klan." Ozma began to disappear down the steps while he was talking to Klan.

"You just keep on believing whatever you want, Ozma. You'll soon find out that your instincts aren't as good as you thought they were. Your powers are weak, old man!" Klan replied. Before he completely left her sight, Ozma cracked a cocky smirk on his face. She did her best to ignore his flippant behavior and turned towards the bathroom door, giving it a good pounding with the side of her fist. "Time's a-wasting, let's go!"

Cal's voice echoed from the other side of the door, "I'm on the pot! Damn! Can't a guy do his business in peace in the morning? Maybe that's why some guys never marry; they like to get to use the bathroom without someone constantly bothering them."

Klan angrily laughed, "Ohh... just you wait until we get out there. When I get through with you, you won't have any energy for those kind of smartass remarks."

"That's what _you_ think..." Cal casually replied. He certainly was building things up for himself. It was yet to be determined whether or not it was all going to come tumbling down him, though.


	43. The SetUp

A/N: I'm not even gonna say it. You guys have been chomping at the bit, waiting for me to update and I'm gonna post this chapter a little earlier than I had planned... that is, earlier in the respects that I haven't finished writing Chapter 45 yet. Since it's taking me awhile to write these extra-long chapters, I think I'm going to go back to the original "6-8k words per chapter" format. That way, I can update more often and keep your reading appetites properly whetted. ;) Chapter 44 turned out to be 22k words. I am thinking of splitting it up into two chapters so I can post them earlier and avoid another long wait before updating again. The problem is that the chapter has a couple of significant events that I would like to keep together, rather than separating them out. If and when you get to read them, you'll know why. I'll think about it the next few days. I certainly would like to be able to update more often, but like I said... this part of the story has been in a doldrums of sorts and I want to get back to some more "interesting" action as quickly as possible.

Okay, moving on... a couple of things I wanted to share with you guys. From reading my past pre-chapter blurbs, you can tell I do like to play some video games here and there and I have a few recommendations for any of you who might be looking for something new. Spring Break came and went and I sampled a plethora of games, looking for something to keep me busy, since I was not working at the time and didn't have any school. The games of note that I came across were Plants Versus Zombies, Revenge of the Titans, and SpaceChem. PvZ earned a well-deserved purchasing price of ten dollars and I got countless hours of entertainment from the game. I compeleted all of the challenges in the game and only had two achievements left to earn. Unfortunately, they were so ridiculously hard to attain, I gave up on them and moved onto a new game, which I will discuss in a bit. I played Revenge of the Titans several months ago when it was in its beta form and it was pretty fun. By the way, all three of these games are simple, 2-D, mouse-centric, clicking games with minimal keyboard inputs needed. RotT had a lot of razzle-dazzle for such a simple interface and I played the demo for awhile. I almost bought the full version when it came out, but I had landed on PvZ and didn't have the time or money to spend on another game. SpaceChem was, for lack of a better phrase, intellectually stimulating. It's got the soul of a puzzle game, with fake chemistry at its heart. If it was 10 dollars, I would have bought it instead of PvZ, but it's still running for 15 bucks on Steam. All three games are definitely worth checking out. It seems that independent games still have a lot of great ideas in them and deserve our support.

Last week, I downloaded and started playing Spiral Knights. This is a free-to-play MMORPG that is very much like Zelda: The Four Swords. I'm hooked. I used to be a massive World of Warcraft player, raiding almost every night with the guilds that I was in. Spiral Knights shares some traits with WoW, but is in NO way a WoW-killer. However, its free-to-play format is highly attractive. It allots you a certain amount of "energy" to use for free, like Farmville (for those Facebook nerds out there). However, you can BUY energy with real money. The difference is that if you pay real money, you're able to progress through the content faster, not being encumbered by the daily limitations of the free energy. You can actually collect currency in the dungeons and use it to buy energy off of players, and this is what I have been doing so far. It's slower, but at least I don't have to pay any money. The good thing about this system is that it discourages me from playing all day. So far after a week of playing, I've found the game to be THOROUGHLY enjoyable.

On the homefront, my ankle is pretty much at 99% and I have returned to work as of about two weeks ago. It still hurts a bit and I'm working the kinks out, but I'm glad to be working again. The school semester is almost over. Two weeks of classes and exam week are all that stand between me and my final grades. Looks like I'm gonna have to "settle" for a B in my calculus class, but everyone tells me that my professor is ridiculously hard. Getting a B in his class is actually pretty good, they tell me. I will be out of town to attend my little sister's graduation right after my semester ends, but I'll be back by that Sunday. Three week's break before summer classes start. I'll have a full plate during the summer and I'm considering just not working or working very few hours during that time, so I will have enough free time to maintain my sanity... and get some writing done. ;)

Let me know what you guys think. Enjoy! -(04/23/11)

* * *

With the Coral star beginning to appear on the horizon, any elevated vantage point would give the viewer a wonderful look at the city. Long shadows stretched from each building, leaving most of the backroads and alleys still in a darkened state. The streetlights were still on, but their usefulness was about to come to an end; that is, until the darkness of night would begin to approach at the end of the day. Occasionally, a new light would illuminate one of the windows of a building; an indication that yet another individual has arisen from their slumber.

The sharpness of the chilly breeze occasionally sweeping by would remind one that it was getting close to the Aimo's winter solstice, which actually came well before the calendar date of Earth's winter solstice. By the time the Christmas holiday was due to arrive on Aimo, the spring solstice would be just around the corner. The location of Frontier City, with respects to the planet's hemispheres, would make it extremely rare that the city would be able to experience a legendary "White Christmas".

Still in her miclone form, Klan sat alone on a bench at the top of a hill that overlooked a large portion of the city. From her perspective, it was a lovely sight to be able to watch the denizens of the colony wake up to the new day. Unfortunately, the calm atmosphere quickly came to an end when the sound of labored breathing and shuffling feet sheared the soothing ambiance in half. Her eyes darted away from the sunrise towards the stairway nearby, expecting someone to appear in sight momentarily.

A few moments passed before Cal's head appeared into the line of sight, slightly bobbing left and right with each step he took. His facial expression showed obvious signs of physical exhaustion. Taking the final stride to climb the last step, he forcefully exhaled and put his hands up behind his head. "That's three...!" he puffed, slowly walking around in a small circle at the top of the stairs, "I told you I could do it within the time you allotted. Once again, you've underestimated me!" Having caught his breath and lowered his heart rate a bit, Cal laid down on the pavement near the park bench upon which Klan was sitting. He laid there looking up at the sky and still breathing slightly heavily.

"I didn't underestimate; I just felt generous. Now I know that that was a big mistake, judging by your sardonic remarks." She got up from her seat and walked over to where Cal was lying on the ground. She stood right next to his head with her arms crossed, looking down at his face with a sharp gaze.

He made note of his visual perspective towards her with a slight laugh, "This view looks strangely familiar. I see that you still carry a lot of the same mannerisms with you, even when you're micloned." From his point of view from on the ground, he was reminded of the times when she'd stand over him while in her Meltran form.

Klan blew her hair out of her face and rolled her eyes. "Come on, get up. I have one more challenge for you to beat before you're done with your 'training'," she said while gesturing air-quotes with her fingers. She then took a water bottle out of her backpack and tossed it at Cal.

"Training for what?" Cal said as he rolled over to push himself up from the ground with his hands.

"Your upcoming assignment." She began to walk towards the gondola a few hundred feet away. Cal took a long drink from his bottle and then began to jog towards her to catch up.

The park that they were in was a popular scenic destination, due to the hill's panoramic view of most of the city. A gondola serviced the top and bottom to allow people to scale and descend the hill as they pleased without breaking a sweat.

Cal and Klan took a seat next to each other in the gondola, even though nobody else was riding the suspension car at the time. Noticing that he was beginning to glut himself with water, she snatched the bottle out of his hands. "Not so much! You're going to give yourself stomach cramps!"

Cal didn't even respond to her remark. He just looked at her with a satisfied smile and wiped his mouth with one of his sleeves. An awkward silence filled the air for a few moments.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Do you find something amusing about me?" she asked with a defensive tone.

"Yeah, you could say that," Cal replied, trying not to laugh.

Klan simply sat in place and stared at him until he decided to elaborate on his answer. The gondola jerked a bit as it began to move, but it didn't even budge her posture.

"I just find it interesting that you would rather get up so damn early to come and boss me around, when you were complaining to me about not getting to sleep in yesterday. I think you're just using it as an excuse to come and spend some time with me." Cal sat in place, smiling at her with his confidence beaming in all directions.

"**Wrong**. What this is is that I see that you're slacking off again and I need to get you back on track. It's that simple," Klan said, crossing her arms as she finished her reply.

Cal laughed at her response. "You have the most interesting tell when you lie about something, you know that?"

"Wha-?"

"Your hair twitches when you aren't telling the truth. I've seen you do it a few times over the past few months." Cal pointed at the top of her head and smiled again.

She instinctively reached up to put her hands on top of her head and mashed her hair down onto her scalp. "My hair didn't twitch! The gondola shook a little bit, so it made my hair move!" She then blushed in embarrassment; either from his comment about her hair, or the possibility that she really was not being truthful. "I just can't allow you to let yourself become complacent as usual. From all of those stories I've heard about your past, you always find a spot and just get comfortable, never looking for something a little better in your future."

Cal was slightly taken aback at her response, seeing as how she seemed to be showing some concern for his progression through life. "So, you're committed to making me into a better person?" The question was obviously bait for a trap.

"I'm not gonna answer that loaded question," she replied, "What I will say is that it drives me absolutely crazy to be able to see such potential in you and then see what you do with that potential. You tend to get lazy when nobody is around to push you into the right direction. What you need is someone to keep pushing you so you won't go back on auto-pilot again."

"...and that 'someone' is... _you_?" Cal asked. He wasn't done with his baiting.

"I didn't say that! But whenever I have a chance, I don't mind showing up to kick you around a little bit. It's actually quite therapeutic, if I do say so myself." She successfully dodged having to answer his question and managed to score a few points for herself on the argument scoreboard.

Cal snickered a bit at her comeback before he replied. "You're only the second person to say such things to me-" Before he could finish his sentence, the gondola stopped moving and the door opened to let its two passengers out. Cal immediately got up from his seat and walked outside with Klan slowly following him and wearing a pensive look on her face. He gazed upwards to scan the long, winding stairway up the large hill in front of him and took a deep breath. Dropping his fist into his open palm, he turned around to ask the next obvious question. "So, what's this 'final challenge' you have for me?"

She shook her thoughts clear to answer his question. "You're gonna climb the hill once more, but with some added weight."

"Great. How much?"

Klan reached behind to grab something out of her backpack. She wiggled her index finger in a circular motion in front of her. "Turn around."

With a slight bit of hesitation, Cal turned away from Klan. As soon as he looked back up at the hill, he heard her footsteps increase to a running rate. He didn't even have time to turn around to see what was coming before an unexpected source of inertia collided with his back. Klan had gotten a running start before jumping onto his back and latching onto his torso around his shoulders. Even though she was relatively small, Cal stumbled forward for a few steps before regaining his balance with her hanging onto him. "What the hell?" Cal exclaimed. She laughed a bit as she held the object from her backpack into his view. Cal's heart skipped a beat as he realized what it was. "Is that... Is that a _riding crop_?"

"Yup! I found it at a yard sale last week and immediately began to think of the possible uses for it," Klan said with a laugh, "Hyah, mule!" She lightly tapped his thigh with the end of the riding crop.

"I don't like this at all... You want me to run up that hill with an extra hundred pounds on my back?"

Suddenly, it wasn't funny to her anymore and she hit him in the leg with the crop using full force. Accompanied by the loud "snap", Cal jumped forward a couple of steps from the sudden sharp pain in his thigh. "I do **not** weigh a hundred pounds, you jerk! Do I _look_ like I weigh that much?"

"Ow! I don't know! I was just guessing! Why are you always hitting me, anyway?"

She hit him with the crop one more time, for good measure. "You _never_ guess at a woman's weight. Let that be a lesson to you. ...and I already told you; it's very therapeutic when I get to kick you around some. Just deal with it."

Cal rubbed his leg and whined a bit, "Dammit... This is just like being in boot again."

"That's the idea! Now, all you have to do is finish this run and you'll be ready for your assignment. Let's go!" Klan gently tapped him on the leg a couple of times with the crop.

Suddenly, the task of making one more run up the hill became far more daunting than before. Cal began to breathe heavily to oxygenate his blood before beginning the run. "Okay... here we go..." he said as he reached down and grabbed Klan's legs to keep her from throwing off his balance while running. He took a couple of quick squats before stepping backwards a few feet. With as much strength as he could muster, he burst forward and gained a running start before hopping up the stairs, two steps at a time.

Klan was focused on holding onto his shoulders and listening to the pace of his breathing to make sure that he was doing it correctly. However, she had something on her mind that she needed to have answered. "So, who was the other person to say that stuff to you?"

"Marie," he said during his exhales, "She... used to... say that... to me... all the time..."

"Oh. I should have guessed," Klan replied with a nervous laugh. She stared blankly forward for a moment, looking at the steps in front of them as they descended her view like a moving escalator. Cal was focused on keeping himself progressing forward and didn't want to waste much more of his breath on talking. Instead of drawing out the matter any further, Klan remained silent. However, she renewed her grip on his torso by squeezing him even tighter and rested her chin onto his shoulder near the nape of his neck. She allowed her head to rest against his, even though his hair was damp with sweat. A grin had found its way onto her face; slightly revealing the true demeanor that remained hidden behind her usual aggressive facade.

Though the burning sensation of anaerobic blood charging through his veins dominated his sense of feeling, Cal could feel Klan's grip getting tighter. He had a feeling that it wasn't just her way of reinforcing her grip; especially when he felt her put her head next to his. Fueled by this unexpected sensation, he increased his running rate, even more determined to complete the task at hand.

…

"Ranka, would you _please_ just let me finish this cooking on my own?" Alto asked, firmly, but politely. He was lightly dressed in a t-shirt and pants, but an apron covered his frontside. The nearby stove was at capacity with a couple of skillets, a pot, and frying pan, each holding food. A cutting board sat on the counter with several different food items neatly chopped up on it.

"Alright, but you have to understand that I am just not used to having a man cook something for me; especially in my own kitchen. Ozma couldn't cook his way out of a paper bag, so I had to do it for him when I got old enough," Ranka replied putting her hands up in front of her after letting go of some utensils that Alto had laid on the counter near the stove.

Alto laughed at Ranka's response while he continued to watch his food. He briefly shook one of the skillets to jostle the food a bit.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's just that it's not at all surprising that Ozma doesn't know how to cook very well. I wonder what he's been living on ever since you moved out of his place." Alto stopped laughing and looked at Ranka for a moment, taking note of the look of discomfort on her face. "You really don't know how to handle it, do you?"

"Well, I _am_ a girl, after all..." Ranka said, alluding to the still-common societal habit of labeling women as the typical home-makers.

"I already tried that line on him," Sheryl's voice rang from the next room, "It doesn't work. You should just come and join us in here, so you don't go and slice your finger open like I did last year."

Alto simply smiled and shook his head, remembering the incident to which Sheryl was referring. He continued to work over the stove, seemingly oblivious to Ranka's apprehension to leave him alone. After a moment, he stopped what he was doing and sighed. "Alright, you can start serving the food. You've got plenty of experience doing that, right?"

Ranka perked up slightly upon hearing his proposal. "This'll be just like my old job! That reminds me... Nana, have you talked to our old boss at Nyan-Nyan lately?" she asked, directing her voice into the dining room nearby.

"I talked to him briefly last week. He says they've been getting busier since it started getting cold outside. I guess people have come to regard Nyan-Nyan as comfort food..." Nanase trailed off.

While Alto finished cooking everyone's meals, Ranka played hostess and made sure everyone had what they needed with their meals. Within minutes, everyone was finally together at the table and eating their breakfasts. The hostess took her first bite and gave her all-encompassing critique to the meal in front of her, "Now, _this_ is comfort food."

Everyone ate in silence for their first bite or two, but it was rare to have such quietness from amongst such a tight and boisterous group of friends. While it was normal for Brera to blend into the background, Luca's quiescence was much more difficult to keep unnoticed by everyone around him. He played with his food using his utensils; glaring at his plate while using his hand to prop his head up.

"Luca?" Nanase asked, "What's been eating you?" Her question prompted a few snickers from around the table; to which, she also laughed as she realized the accidental pun she had injected into her inquiry.

Luca looked up from his plate towards his dearest without a word. He couldn't say anything about what had transpired in his office the night before. The sight of Nanase's face and the feel of her presence helped him clear his mind for the moment. "It's nothing. I just stayed up very late working last night, that's all..." It was a simple lie to pass on as a facade. Luca's staying up late was of no surprise to any of his friends and it helped him get away with his fib without any questioning whatsoever.

"Does that mean you're not going to be able to help me prepare my dish for the picnic this weekend?" Nanase asked with a disappointed look on her face.

Upon hearing Nanase's question, Alto began to slowly slouch forward over his food as Luca answered with a perkier demeanor, "No, I'll be there! You know I could never let you down..." He smiled at Nanase in response to her newfound exuberance.

"Oh yeah!" Ranka said with a demanding voice and looking straight at the now-slouching Alto sitting next to her, "What's this I hear about a picnic that the squadron's having? How come I have to hear about it from someone else other than yourself? Were you not planning on inviting me, or something?"

Alto struggled to swallow his food; he knew he was about to have to do some smooth talking to get out of this one easily. "Well... Ozma told me that it was mandatory to attend. I figured he'd have some kind of squadron-only business; like a briefing on our new mission. I didn't think he'd allow us to bring friends or family."

"That's not the message that I got," Luca interjected, "We were welcomed to bring anyone we wanted. Are you sure you didn't just misread the message?"

Alto darted his eyes around barely shook his head while he stared at Luca. It was as if he was trying to tell him to not stretch the matter out any further. "Ohh!" he feigned ignorance on the matter, "Yeah, I must have just misunderstood the instructions. Ranka, would you like to come?" His smile showed a hint of nervousness as he waited for a response from her.

"Ahem..." Sheryl pretended to clear her throat to garner his attention.

"Umm..." Alto began to scratch the back of his head, thinking of a way to dodge the incoming assault from both directions. All he could muster was a nervous laugh.

"What about me?" The usually-silent Brera decided to jump into the conversation with an awkward fashion, further discomforting Alto. It was rare to see Brera showing his sense of humor, but his comical entry was well-timed. "Are you going to invite me to come too?" Everyone's eyes were centered in on Alto while he seemed to be thoroughly flummoxed about the situation. He appeared to be the only one in the room **not** finding these circumstances to be extremely funny.

…

"When you said 'special assignment'," Cal complained while breathing short, labored breaths, "...this was **not** what I had in mind."

Still in her miclone form, Klan effortlessly darted up to the top of the stairs at one of the local shopping malls. She turned around at the top to watch Cal coming around the corner, having just climbed the first half of the steps and needing to turn a 180 to start going up the other set. Klan's demeanor was quite lighthearted and playful and she leaned forward to look down towards him with her hands held together behind her back. "I told you that you owe me for making me wake up early yesterday. Consider this your way of paying me back."

Cal was weighed down by several large shopping bags. He held 2-3 bags in each hand, while a few more were hanging from his shoulders. Now reminded of his "debt" to her, he succumbed to the situation and began walking up the stairs. It was easy to tell that he was struggling to make it up the steps, but he managed to reach the top. "How much stuff can one girl buy during a single shopping trip?"

"Usually, the rule of thumb is to shop until you can't carry any more stuff," Klan replied. She reached over and grabbed his jacket at the waist and pulled him forward to get him walking a little faster. "Since I'm still not yet carrying anything, I'd say that we still have a long ways to go."

"Aw, come on!"

She couldn't help but laugh at the fact that she was, once again, making Cal jump through hoops for her own personal gain and/or entertainment. After walking forward several feet with him in tow, she let go of his jacket, turned around, and started walking backwards so she could look at him while speaking. "Don't worry, I'll feed you some lunch. You can pick where to eat, once we make it to the food court."

The thought of food entered Cal's mind and began to distract him from the burning sensation running through his legs. He looked upwards to see the transparent ceiling and the tables placed above on the food court. The sun shone through the glassy barrier that separated himself and the delectables located on the rooftop terrace. "Then it looks like the most difficult task is yet before me; that is, choosing what to eat."

Klan had turned around, smiling at his change in behavior at the mention of bribing him with food. "Typical man... Always thinking about food. ...and other stuff that will remain unmentioned."

"You'll have to learn that men are simple creatures, Klan... All we care about is eating, sleeping, and- well, you know... '_that_'."

Klan immediately stopped walking and crossed her arms as she waited for Cal to catch up to her. "First of all, what makes you think that I don't know everything I need to know about men?"

This was dangerous territory to tread. Cal had two choices: put out the fire, or throw more gasoline onto it. He chose the latter, "Well, since you're always so impossibly stubborn and abrasive, I figure that you never bothered to find out what guys like. You just _tell_ them what they like!" He was certain that his response was every bit as hilarious as it sounded. Even though he thought it was funny, he knew that he was unabashedly trying to get under her skin.

"So, you prefer the girly-types, huh?" she asked while starting to walk forward again, "I'm disappointed." Rather than jumping down his throat, Klan decided to take a more sinister route. "Would it be better if I did this?" she asked as she turned to face him again and clasped her hands together in front of her chin, "Oh, Cal... whatever can I do for you to make your life soooo much better? Should I make you a sandwich? How about if I cleaned your room for you?" She was obviously overacting the part and quickly cleared her submissive demeanor. She stared at him, waiting for an answer.

"That sandwich _does_ sound nice. Would you?" Cal replied with a wry grin.

"Well, I hope you like a _knuckle_ sandwich!" Klan replied, holding her fist up towards his face and then jabbing him in the stomach. She then angrily turned around and began to walk forward.

Cal recoiled from the punch, but started to follow her again, "I didn't say that I liked the girly-types; you just made that assumption." He remained silent for a few seconds before asking his next question. "Why are you always hitting me, anyways?"

"I already told you earlier today: it's therapeutic! That, and you also deserve it. Kills two birds with one stone. Oh, and second of all, what do you mean by 'that' when you said it with 'eating and sleeping'?" She stopped and turned around with her arms crossed once more.

Cal had no choice but to stop walking and look straight into her eyes while he tried to think of a witty, euphemistic way to explain his earlier statement. "Quit starting fights..."

"Is that all you think women are good for?" Klan demanded, "I think _you're_ the one who doesn't know the first thing about what _women_ like. So, to clear up any possible misconceptions, what _were_ you talking about?"

"Umm..." Cal stammered. He then began to stare blankly at something in the distance behind Klan, opening his eyes widely. "What the...?"

Klan turned around to see what was distracting him, but she couldn't immediately figure it out. Suddenly, she heard the sound of rustling bags behind her and turned to see Cal making his way across the bridge to the other side of the mall's walkway. "You bastard! Come here and answer my question!"

Even though he knew he wouldn't get far, Cal laughed the entire way across the bridge as Klan ran after him. However, his PDA began to alert him of an incoming call and he stopped to figure out how he was going to answer with his hands full. Looking to each side, he raised the bags in his hands in an effort to uncover his PDA's location on his hip. Just as he saw it come into view, Klan's hand snatched it from its holder. "No! Don't answer that!" Cal demanded.

She ignored his request and wore a mischievous smile to taunt him while she figured out how to answer the call. The device's layout was unfamiliar to her, but she quickly touched the appropriate button on the screen with her finger and put the phone up to her ear. "Hi! You've reached Cal's office. How may I direct your call?" she responded, mimicking an office secretary. Her face then changed to a confused, and slightly angry state, "Who is this?"

At that very moment, Cal began to worry that perhaps Jen was calling him. He had no idea how Klan would react to having some other woman calling him, even though they were still nothing more than just friends.

"Oh, hey Nene!" Klan finally responded, replacing her demeanor with a smile. Cal exhaled in relief upon hearing her. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you initially. This place is kinda loud right now." Klan had bent forward and put her hand over her other ear to hear the phone a little better. "Yeah, he's right here"..."We're out shopping. Why do you ask?"..."Um, no. I don't see why it's such a surprise. What's your point?" Klan listened for a few moments while Nene explained the reasoning for her call. "No, I don't think that's wise. You know he's not going to like that idea." She then sighed and rolled her eyes, "**Fine**. Yeah, I think we can do that. We'll meet you guys there later, okay? Bye."

"What did she want?"

"Just a slight change in plans; it's nothing to worry about," she replied. "Now, about that answer you owe me..."

Cal cautiously began to step backwards, further distancing himself from her.

"Don't forget that I have your phone here," she said, waving his PDA in the air in front of her, "I'm going to hold it hostage until I get the answer I'm looking for."

He stopped backing away and began to grumble under his breath, trying to figure out a way to avoid the question. "Dammit." Unfortunately, he was now unlikely to succeed in doing so and began to prepare for the worst. This was not going to go well...

Back at Will's apartment, Nene snickered as she put her phone down. She walked out of Will's room to see him sitting on the couch, watching TV.

"What did he say?" he asked without turning his head away from the screen.

"You won't believe it, but Klan answered his phone."

Her response made Will turn to look at her in surprise, "Really? They were already together, huh? That's good, then. Maybe this won't be so difficult to do, after all. So, she said they'd come?"

Nene nodded. "Yup. Phase One of our plan is now complete. Phase Two begins in a few hours," she said as she walked over to take a seat next to him.

…

A gateway of sorts separated Frontier City from Laplamiz, housing the micloning facilities needed to process the Zentrans as they passed from one municipality to the other. An enormous medical complex was constructed nearby to service the various fields of medicine involved in the genetic science used in the micloning process. Although most Zentrans passed through the complex to change into their desired form, many others simply arrived to take care of their personal medical business.

Will and Nene stood around on the walkway outside of one of the buildings, but several stories up. They appeared to be expecting company and didn't have to wait for very long.

"There they are," Nene declared. Will had been leaning over the bannister to look down at the lower levels of the walkway, but stood up to see for himself when he heard her remark.

Off in the distance, Klan and Cal approached at a walking pace. Fortunately for Cal, he was no longer encumbered by the shopping bags and instead casually strolled along with his hands in his jacket pockets. They appeared to be discussing something with each other when she suddenly became incensed and kicked him in the leg. He didn't even flinch from the pain and just laughed at her reaction to his words.

"Those two; I swear... they'll never grow up," Nene said, remarking on what she had just seen. She and Will both shook their heads in disappointment while they waited for Cal and Klan to approach.

"Okay, let's get this over with," Klan said once she and Cal had entered speaking distance.

It appeared that Cal was still in the dark about what they were about to do and had to raise his concerns, once he saw Will and Nene turn and walk in the other direction. "The micloning facilities are that way," he said pointing behind, "I thought we were going to your place, or something."

"In a bit," Nene replied with a smile, "We have a little errand to run first."

They soon approached one of the offices on that building's level, with Will and Nene entering the door first. Cal's instincts told him to stop walking. "Wait, what is this place?" he said, looking up at the sign above the door.

"We're just going to put you and Will through a couple of tests to see what you're made of," Klan replied.

"Tests for what?"

"C'mon, Cal... think about it. Why else would we be at this particular medical facility?" she said, placing her hands onto the small of his back and pushing him forward with all of her strength.

Cal resisted, but was still being pushed through the door. "What? No! You know I hate those goddamn machines! I refuse to get into one of those things!"

"Don't be such a wimp. Besides, you're not going to be using a micloning tank here. Nene wants to do this for the fun of it; just to see if you guys are able to undergo the process... just in case you change your minds."

"What's the point of having _me_ here? You're just wasting time, Klan!" Cal complained as he finally crossed the door threshold with Klan still pushing him inside. The automatic doors came to a close behind her after she cleared the threshold.

After waiting a few minutes, Will and Cal were seated in front of the doctor's desk inside his office. Numerous framed diplomas, certifications, and achievements were spread all over the wall behind him. Several photos of his family were on his desk, amongst various knick-knacks and office supplies. A couple of small ficus plants sat in the two corners of the room behind his desk.

"We need to start with a little bit of legalese, unfortunately," the doctor said as he handed Will and Cal a couple of clipboards; each of them holding several sheets of printed paper. "Just read and sign these forms once I'm finished explaining everything." He waited for them to nod in agreement before continuing, "I just want to make you boys aware of what it is that we'll be doing here, alright?"

The doctor then stood up and walked over to where he had a couple of anatomical diagrams next to each other. "As I'm sure you both know, it's possible for humans to undergo the macronization process, changing their bodies to a Zentraedi form. What I need to make you both aware of, though, is that the process causes a lot of changes inside of your body; it's not just reconstructing your body into a much larger version of itself, as is the common misconception." He used a small pointing stick to indicate a couple of the notes on the diagrams, which had changed to show the internal structure of the bodies. "This is a Human and this is a Zentran. You'll noticed that the internal organs are shifted in such a way as to offer better protection against physical injuries. The Zentraedi were genetically engineered as machines of war by the Protoculture and they were designed with survivability in mind."

"That's why they couldn't miclone Klan and Nene when they got injured a few weeks ago," Cal turned towards Will to say. Will simply nodded.

"So, you guys have a little bit of knowledge about the process?"

"Just a little bit, Doctor. Sorry to interrupt you... Go ahead," Cal replied with a nod.

"It's okay, just let me know if you have any questions along the way. Anyway, what we do _here_ is we have to pre-screen Humans for any kind of anomalies that may crop up during the macronization process." The diagrams changed into a pie chart as the doctor continued, "Since Humans and Zentrans share such a similar genetic code, they're easily interchangeable. While almost _all_ Zentrans can tolerate the micloning process, not all Humans can undergo the macronization process. A large portion of the population does not have the necessary genetic markers. On top of that, there are also various abnormalities and illnesses that cause complications. Your friend, Klan out there, is one of the unfortunate individuals who suffers from such an abnormality. However, thanks to 'unfortunate individuals' like her, we can learn to treat and stamp out these abnormalities with each succeeding generation."

Having heard the doctor mention Klan, Cal had to ask the obvious question, "Will you guys ever be able to fix her abnormality?"

"To be honest, the odds are quite slim. There are a few controversial forms of treatment out there, but they're 'controversial' for a reason: they're very dangerous."

Cal exhaled in disappointment, but put himself back together to listen to the doctor continue with his presentation. "Okay, I was just curious."

"Your concern is understandable, but we're doing what we can in the name of science," the doctor replied. He turned his attention back to the pie chart, "On top of the genetic abnormalities, we also have to physically screen the applicant's body for anything that might turn into a problem. The micloning tanks are built and programmed well to deal with most physical aberrations, but there are occasional issues that crop up as well. We don't leave one stone unturned, when it comes to pre-screening applicants, so don't worry about a thing." The doctor then sat down in his huge chair and started to tap his pointing stick onto the desktop. "We can pretty much do everything in a short time. We'll set you guys up in tanks and immerse your bodies in the fluid used in the micloning tanks to monitor how well your respiratory systems handle the liquid. It will take some getting used to, so don't panic while you're in there, or anything. Questions?"

Cal and Will both looked at each other nervously. "We have to breathe _liquid_?" they both seemed to ask simultaneously.

"What, did you think that Zentrans held their breath the entire time they were in the tank?" the doctor laughed as he asked.

Although Cal didn't want to be there in the first place, even Will was beginning to have second thoughts about this "plan" that he and Nene had dreamed up.

Out in the waiting room, Klan and Nene patiently waited for the results. "It's about time you reached out to spend some time with him," Nene said in reference to Cal, "I was beginning to think that you were just going to outright ignore him after everything you two have gone through."

Klan had her face buried in a magazine that once sat on the coffee table in front of them. "Mhm."

"There's one thing that bothers me about you two, though. Why are you always so mean to him?"

There's that question again. Klan rolled her eyes and answered her sister's inquiry with a touch of impatience. "Because he always asks for it! To be honest, I think he kind of likes it. He must be some kind of masochist, because he's always trying to piss me off."

"Well, maybe he's just trying to get your attention. If you'd just quit pretending like you're not interested in him, he might quit trying to get under your skin."

"No, that's just how he is; he's always been like that since I first met him."

"True, but he doesn't do it that much with Will and I. You know why? Because we know how to get under _his_ skin. You should try fighting fire with fire to get him to stop."

"Thanks, but I prefer my methods," Klan replied, putting the magazine down in her lap so she could pound her fist into her hand. "Besides, if he didn't like it, he wouldn't be hanging around me at this point, would he?"

"Also true... How long do you think he's going to put up with it, though? I wouldn't call it just 'hanging around', either. You know what's on his mind, don't you? The question is, what is on _your_ mind?"

Klan stared at Nene for a moment, a bit upset at her for prodding into her personal business. However, she decided not to answer the question, scoffed, and put the magazine up to hide her face once more.

Nene exhaled in frustration. "My older sister... the 20-year-old grade-schooler."

Klan dropped her magazine into her lap, revealing her impatience with Nene's incessant badgering.

Fortunately for Nene, Will emerged from the clinic and entered the waiting room with a smile on his face. "Who's got two thumbs and is an ideal candidate?" he asked. He then pointed at himself with his thumbs and responded to his own question, "This guy!"

"I could have told you that!" Nene replied, standing up to give Will a hug and a kiss. Klan just put her magazine back up to her face so she wouldn't have to live in reality at that very moment.

About fifteen minutes later, Cal came out from the clinic holding his results in his hand. The printouts were neatly stored in a brown envelope, but the seal wasn't even broken. Will and Nene sat in adjacent chairs while they pored over Will's test results; Klan was still lost in her magazine. Seeing that he had entered the room, Will and Nene became quiet and stared at him, waiting for his prognosis. Klan dipped her magazine just low enough to see Cal standing in the waiting room.

"Well?" Will asked, "What did they tell you?"

"Alright, let's get out of here," Cal said as he started walking towards the door. Something was obviously bothering him, but the fact that he hadn't even cracked open the envelope meant that he'd heard enough from the doctor after the results came in. Once he reached the automatic door, he continued forward, expecting it to open for him. It did not, however, and Cal ran straight into the panels, bouncing off of them a bit. Will and Nene couldn't help but laugh at his misfortune, but Cal didn't think it at all funny. He stuck his fingers between the doors and forced them open, causing the electric motors on the doors to grind. He opened the doors just wide enough to squeeze through and they snapped shut behind him once more.

Will and Nene then turned towards Klan, who hadn't moved an inch. It didn't take her long to get a clue, though. She clicked her tongue and got up from the chair to exit the waiting room and go outside. The automatic doors did their job this time, opening on cue to let her out.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon and the walkway was fairly dark, with a few lights illuminating the pathway towards the elevator. Klan hurried down the walkway towards Cal, who had already traveled about 100 feet down the path by the time she had gotten outside. "Cal!" she yelled. He didn't respond and just kept walking away. She ran to catch up to him and grabbed his jacket sleeve. "I know you heard me. Why are you ignoring me?" she demanded.

Cal reacted by yanking his sleeve out of her grip. He obviously didn't feel like talking about it at that moment.

For some reason, Klan reminded herself of Nene's concerns over her treatment of Cal. Maybe being so blunt and overbearing wasn't the right kind of behavior to exhibit in this situation. She quickly walked around to his frontside to stop him from walking forward. "Look, you're obviously upset over something. Will and Nene are way over there and they can't hear a thing. You can tell me what the doctor told you. Whatever it is, I promise you... it can't be _that_ bad."

Cal looked down at her and sighed. With his hands still in his pockets, he shifted to his left to invite Klan to take the envelope that was pinned between his right arm and his body. Fortunately for them, they had stopped next to one of the lamps on the pathway, allowing them to be able to read clearly.

She unpacked the contents of the envelope and began to study the pages. However, she quickly became frustrated at the jargon printed on each leaf. "I don't know what half of this crap means. What happened in there?"

Cal waited for a moment before he leaned onto the bannister to collect his thoughts. "Well, first off, when they put me in the tank and tried to get me to breath that... 'stuff', I freaked out. So badly, in fact, that they had to let me back out to keep my heart rate from skyrocketing any higher than it already was."

"It's not that bad, Cal. I have to breathe that stuff all of the time-" she cut herself off when Cal glared at her with a touch of anger in his face. "Sorry... is that all that happened?"

"They ended up doing the rest of the testing and the doctor tried to explain everything to me in the best way he knew how. It seems that I have some, um... 'problems' to consider. He said he was concerned about the way my back had repaired itself. You know, from when I had to spend three months in the hospital?" Klan nodded and Cal continued, "Well, he's concerned that I may have major posture issues if I undergo the transformation. It may even cause me to lose the use of my legs, but they're not 100% positive on that."

"I see..." Klan remarked.

"That's not all, either. After doing genetic analysis, they said that I have several 'areas of interest' in my genetic code. They listed all of the possibilities on page 6."

Klan flipped to page 6 and found the section to which Cal was referring. She scanned the page for a few moments until she came across something very noteworthy, "'Possible outcomes include micloning sickness'-" She stopped mid-sentence and let her hand drop to the side while still holding the packet. She then closed her eyes, drooped her head, and put her other hand up to grab the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

"What's micloning sickness?" Cal asked.

"It's when your genes are too weak to withstand multiple transformations in a micloning tank. Basically, if you macronize, you run a good chance of not being able to return to your natural size," she replied with a heavy sigh.

"Oh, _that's_ what the doctor was trying to say. I guess he was just boiling it down to layman's terms for me at that time." Cal shifted his posture in between breaths. "He told me that they could surgically fix the spine problem, but it may require a set of artificial vertebrae. If that becomes the case, then I definitely won't be able to return to my natural form. Artificial implants won't make it through the process." Sensing Klan's uncertainty, he decided to at least finish with a bit of possible good news, "Then again, all of this horse hockey may not be an issue at all. They're just outlining all of the possible outcomes of undergoing the process. You know how overly cautious doctors can be. It _is_ someone's life and well-being at stake. I'd prefer that he erred on the side of caution."

She looked back up at him in disbelief. "Are you _really_ trying to make things seem to be better than they really are?"

"Um," Cal stammered, not really understanding the question, "What? I'm just explaining the possibilities. There's no ulterior motive."

"Riiight..." she replied with an obvious hint of sarcasm in her voice. "It's thoughtful of you, nonetheless. We'll figure something out... eventually, I'm sure." Klan repackaged the contents of the envelope, handed it back to Cal, and looked back to where Will and Nene were waiting outside. Upon seeing her glance, they started to approach at a walking pace. She then stared out towards the city skyline, put her hands into her jacket pockets, and heavily sighed once more. "Man, I could really use a stiff drink right about now..."

…

Klan slammed her empty shot glass onto the counter. "Ohhh yeah..." she said as she forcefully exhaled following her drink. "Pour me another, barkeep!" she said, holding out her shot glass for another helping.

"You've had 3 shots in the past five minutes!" Nene whined. She stood on the other side of the kitchen counter holding a bottle of liquor in her hand. She set out a tray of peculiarly-sized snacks onto the counter next to Klan as she continued, "Stuff like this isn't supposed to be downed so fast; you should savor it a bit before moving onto the next shot."

"I paid for it; I'll drink it however I want to, okay?" Klan demanded. Already, she was showing signs of belligerence and tipsiness.

Nene casually wafted the bottle under her nose and recoiled from the scent. "Whoo! This stuff smells really strong. Are you sure you want more?" Klan responded by tapping the bottom edge of her shot glass onto the counter once more. "At least get some food into your stomach, okay?" Nene said as she poured another helping into Klan's glass. She briefly turned her gaze towards the snack tray to visually indicate the location of the tray in relation to Klan's position.

"Alright! Snacks!" Will said as he ran into view on the counter. Because of his relative diminutive stature compared to Nene and Klan, he looked like a cartoon mouse, snatching as much food as he could hold in his arms. "Thanks, babe!" he said to Nene before he scampered off towards the partially-opened window at the end of the countertop.

Nene smiled at her beloved miclone partner in response and then turned her gaze back towards her sister. It was almost painful for her to watch Klan down yet another shot of alcohol. "I don't see you acting like this very often. Care to share your thoughts?"

"Nope. I'm fine. You should try some of this; it's pretty good stuff."

Outside, Cal leaned against the edge of the flowerbox that was installed outside of the kitchen window at Klan's and Nene's apartment. The flowerbox faced the interior of the housing complex, where a seemingly-endless courtyard sprawled for what seemed like forever to him. In reality, it was a decently-sized common area built on a Zentraedi scale for the residents to use at their discretion. Cal watched a Zentran couple standing at one side of the grassy area while they supervised their pet hydra as it did its business near some hedges.

"I got some grub for us to eat," Will said as he stepped sideways through the opening left by the cracked-open window, "Nene always seems to be prepared for anything. She had the foresight to buy some miclone-sized food, just in case we came to visit." He gave Cal one of the packages of pretzels that he had taken from the snack tray before leaning against the edge of the flowerbox next to Cal. "What are you looking at?"

"That Zentraedi couple over there. It's just interesting to watch how much alike they are to a Human couple. Despite minor genetic differences, it's simply amazing how similar we are to each other. 50 years ago, it was all about a dramatic difference of cultures. Now that our two races have melded our cultures together, there's really not much else that separates us from each other." Cal turned around and leaned his back against the bannister and took a drink from the beer bottle he had been holding in one of his hands. "Ironically, it's genetic differences that now separate myself from her," he said, looking back into the window. Klan and Nene could be clearly seen talking to each other, but their voices weren't carrying outside to where Cal and Will were standing.

"Dude, don't worry about that," Will said with a slight laugh, "It still doesn't change how you feel about her. You guys will get used to it."

"Easy for you to say, Will. Nene doesn't have the same problem with micloning as Klan does. She looks exactly the same in her miclone form as she does when she's in her Meltran form. On top of that, we now know that you could macronize yourself to her size if you wanted to... By the way, how come you didn't hop into one of those tanks earlier, since you checked out okay?"

"No point right now, really. Besides, I don't think it would be appropriate for me to do something like that. I'd be kind of rubbing your face in it if I did, right?"

There wasn't much Cal could say edgewise. The fact that he had a friend like Will, who was always aware of that which wasn't glaringly obvious to Cal, helped him to realize that he was very much a wingman in and out of combat. It was comforting to know that someone always had his back, no matter what. "How magnanimous of you..." he casually commented. Looking up at the night sky and focusing on one of the orbiting moons in sight, Cal continued answering Will's last couple of statements, "I know that being 'different' than Klan shouldn't matter... and I use that term quite loosely. You're right, it doesn't... with me. I don't know how much it bothers her. Ever since we came back to Aimo, it's like she's been avoiding me. Then, she appears out of nowhere to return things back to what they used to be when she was our flight leader. She's overbearing and controlling with me; even berating me for not using military courtesy protocol in a public setting yesterday."

Will shook his head with a snicker, still looking out into the massive courtyard. "Well, it's kind of funny how she never behaves like that with me. Even when we first joined her team, she always seemed to single _you_ out. I think that means something, there. She's fixated on you, if you ask me."

"She definitely does seem to have it out for me, that's for sure," Cal said with a nervous laugh. He then focused his gaze on Klan, who was still sitting at the counter inside. "I just wish she'd cut that out, though. It confuses the hell out of me, as to what she's thinking inside that head of hers. I don't mind the strictness much, especially when I need to be put back on track, but she just seems to take pleasure in making me jump through hoops for no apparent reason. It would be nice to just get a straight answer from her; to cut the crap and find out that she does, in fact, have a pleasant side. I've seen it pop up from time to time, but she's always quick to revert back to her usual self."

"Cal, my friend," Will said as he turned around and dropped his hand on Cal's shoulder, "I think that time will come _very_ soon." He looked into the window and made eye contact with Nene. She inconspicuously nodded at him and then looked back at her sister. Will then looked at his watch on his wrist, taking care not to spill any beer from the bottle in his hand. "Welp, I have to be getting up early in the morning to take care of some stuff," he said as he slowly approached the opening in the window, "Nene's gonna escort me home, but you should stick around to spend some time with Klan while you can."

Cal's eyes popped open as he thought about the situation. "Wait, what? You're gonna leave me here alone with her?"

"Yeah...? What, are you afraid she's going to take advantage of you, or something?" Will said with a laugh.

"No. It's just that I smell some kind of setup, here." Cal narrowed his eyes while looking at Will, "What are you two up to?"

Will had already taken a step back inside and put his hands up in front of him in a defensive gesture, "Nothing! God, you're paranoid. Just _talk_ to her, dammit!"

Inside of the apartment, Will had done a good job of masking his voice enough to keep Klan from hearing what he was saying to Cal. Nene had given up on talking Klan out of drinking more, but her demeanor resembled that of a master reverse-psychologist. "Ready to go?" she asked of Will.

"Yep! Now's the perfect time to get going," he said while looking at his watch. Of course, he already knew what the time was, but it was all part of the play.

Klan perked up a bit upon realizing that her sister was leaving her and taking Will with her. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Will needs to get up early in the morning and needs to get to bed. I'm gonna go with him so we don't bother you and Cal, okay?" Nene had already made it halfway to the door by the time she had finished informing Klan of what she was doing.

"Wait! You're just gonna run off like that? I thought you were trying to talk me out of drinking all this time!" Klan began to lean to the side, reaching for her sister to stop her from leaving. What she didn't realize was that her perception was already fairly inaccurate and Nene was far out of her reach. Klan stopped leaning to the side as soon as her sense of balance kicked in to let her know that she was about to cause herself to fall to the floor from her perch on the barstool. She reacted by using her other hand to grab the countertop and regain her balance.

"Be careful, there!" Nene said with a slight laugh, "You two just enjoy spending some time with each other. Cal, if you feel too drunk to make your way home, feel free to crash here for the night, okay?"

"Umm―" Cal was just emerging from the flowerbox through the window.

"Great! See ya!" Nene said, cutting Cal off before he could even respond. She certainly did seem to be in a hurry to leave. She quickly slammed the door shut to keep anyone inside from objecting.

Outside, Will had to immediately clear his conscience, "Are you sure it's a good idea to leave her alone with Cal when she's drunk like that?" he asked.

"Trust me. If I know my sister well... and I do... that alcohol will loosen up her tongue a bit. It's not going to happen while we're there, so we're just going to have to trust that nothing bad happens while we're gone," Nene said with a laugh.

"Our plan almost went down in flames because of what happened at the pre-screening clinic. I sure hope you're right about this, Nene."

Back inside, Cal quietly crept back into the apartment and shut the window behind him. Even though he had already downed a couple of beers, he still had his wits about him. The question was the extremity of Klan's inebriated state. He nervously approached her, walking down the length of the countertop while munching the last of the pretzels from the bag in his hand.

Klan's eyes quickly reacted to Cal when he entered her severely stunted field of vision. She looked very sleepy because of her drunken state, but she fought to keep the effects of the alcohol from altering her appearance. Unable to cope with the sudden feeling of discomfort, she bit her lip to keep herself from smiling nervously at Cal. "Well, are you gonna let me drink alone, or what?" she candidly asked, "Pull up a chair, I guess." She briefly turned her gaze towards the small table and chairs that had been set out for Will and Cal to use while they were there.

Cal finished chewing his last bite and followed it up with the last of the beer in his bottle. He set the empty containers onto the table on his way to get more beer and snacks. Partaking of more food from the snack tray near Klan, he eventually took a seat at the table in front of her. "So, do you also get the feeling that we're being set up?" he asked as he twisted the cap off of a fresh bottle of beer.

She swished her empty shot glass around, partially mesmerized by the refraction pattern of light passing through it and into her eyes. "I think they're trying to tell us something..."

Cal knew that they were both under the influence; Klan was apparently more so. "Look, I can tell you're pretty tipsy already. If you don't feel comfortable in this situation, I can just get on out of here."

"Why do you do that?" Klan interjected, "Most of the time, you're trying to annoy me; and then there are these times when you become this 'nice guy' who treats me like some kind of delicate flower."

The suddenness of her question caught Cal by surprise. Needless to say, he was caught unprepared to answer such a question. "I have almost the same question that constantly runs through my mind. You're always acting like a drill sergeant around me; but every once in awhile, you let a softer side of yourself out. What's up with that?"

"No I don't. Like when?"

"Just this morning! You barged into my room to wake me up early, dragged me out to the park, forced me into doing some PT, and even decided to use a riding crop on me."

"Yeah, that was funny, wasn't it?"

"Maybe it was for _you_. But what confused the hell out of me was when you tightened your grip on me when I was carrying you up the steps. That was a hug!"

Klan's face was already blushed from the alcohol causing her facial capillaries to move closer to the surface of her skin. Still, her expression showed some embarrassment. "No, it wasn't... I was just making sure I held on tightly enough so you wouldn't lose grip and send me tumbling down the steps."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Cal said with a laugh. "Seriously, Klan, put away the facade already. All of this reclusive behavior is just getting old. I see you do things that no normal person would do in a typical situation. Why else would you volunteer to deliver a package to me at work? Why else would you wake up before the butt-crack of dawn just to make sure I was getting back into a proper daily routine? Why else would you drag me around the mall all afternoon... other than to be your pack mule?" he asked with another slight laugh during that question. "I think the biggest question out of them all is 'If I annoy you so much, why do you even bother to put up with me?'"

"Aha!" Klan said while slowly turning her head back to Cal. Her eyes seemed to follow at a slower pace, indicating her increasing level of drunkenness. "See, that's exactly what I wonder about you. If you complain about the way I treat you, why do you even bother putting up with it?" She was so certain she had him cornered, but she hadn't considered the plethora of possible answers that Cal could come up with.

"You know the answer to that question," he sternly replied, "I told you several weeks ago when you were laid up in that bed on the medical frigate."

Suddenly, Klan began to run through her memory of that moment in time and for some reason, the emotional reaction she displayed after he had left her back then began to surface again. Rather than letting Cal see this reaction, she turned away, poured another shot, and downed it; all within a few seconds. Following the forceful exhale after swallowing her drink, she continued to stare into the distance away from Cal and let some honesty slip out of her mouth, "Okay, it was a hug. Is that better? What's wrong with that?"

Cal smiled and stood up, leaving his food and drink sitting on the table. "There's nothing wrong with it. Does it feel better to admit it?" He began to walk towards the direction in which Klan was looking, in order to be able to see her facial expressions.

She moved her arm to stop him from approaching any closer. "Don't..." she said while looking up at the ceiling to hide her reaction.

He leaned against her arm and attempted to get a little more information out of her, "Are you... crying?"

"It's this damn alcohol! ...makin' my eyes watery!" Klan exclaimed as she clumsily pushed the bottle as far away from herself as she could. She then took in a deep breath to regain her composure. "I'm sorry..."

"For what? Crying?"

"No!" she exclaimed out of frustration, "For just generally being a bitch to you. I feel like I can't help myself when I'm around you. Your smugness just seems to make me want to bonk you on the head all of the time. Then when you start to get under my skin, I get so defensive." She turned her head to look out at nothing again, "You deserve someone who treats you better than that."

Cal sighed and briefly put his face into his palm, then looked back up at her. "So, that's it? You're just gonna give up on yourself like that?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I first met you, you were an impenetrable wall, devoid of emotion. You had buried yourself in your grief and were determined to not let anyone get close to you ever again. Over the weeks, I began to see pieces of that wall crumble away to reveal your true inner-self. Every once in awhile, you'd revert back to your old ways as an attempt to patch up those holes. However, I knew that you could eventually return to your old self; the one that knew how to care for others. All I had to do was keep working at it. From what little pieces of you from behind that wall I had seen and experienced, I knew that it was worth the effort."

"Goddammit. See, that's what I am talking about," Klan replied, cracking a smile. "For the life of me, I can't figure out why you do and say those kinds of things... but they do make me feel better inside." Once again, she had changed her demeanor into something else; this time, one of satisfaction. She cautiously lifted her arm from in front of Cal and then placed it behind him; gently bumping him from behind, as if she was drawing him closer to herself.

At this point, Cal was starting to feel a bit nervous about the situation. Something about the look on her face was setting off alarms in his head. Her cheeks and nose were red and shiny; obvious side effects of her inebriation. "I don't think I need to remind you that you're now completely smashed," he said with a nervous laugh.

"That's okay. I'm fine." Klan seemed to have problems keeping her eyes open, not to mention keeping them focused on Cal.

"Um, maybe we should pick up this conversation when you're not so drunk," Cal said as he put his hands onto her arm and hopped over it like a short picket fence. He started to walk over to the small table where he had been sitting before to retrieve his jacket, which was draped over the backside of one of the chairs. However, he was stopped by Klan's hand, which quickly landed in front of him and started to close in to where he was standing.

"Wait. I'm not done with you," she said with a slightly suggestive tone. She slid her arm forward to cut off any escape routes.

Cal watched her arm pass by like a huge anaconda surrounding its prey before asphyxiating it to death. He had to quickly decide whether or not this was a good place to be. If she's as drunk as he thinks she is, there's no telling what kind of careless things she'd do that might cause him some kind of physical harm. "Uh, what is it?" he nervously asked. His eyes darted from side to side, assessing any possible escape routes, in case things went from bad to worse in the blink of an eye.

"Maybe you and my sister are right. Perhaps I've been going about this all wrong. All I do is hide behind my cold exterior." Klan rested her chin onto her other hand, but she kept Cal close by, nestled on the inside of her elbow joint. The grin on her face was tough to decipher as to what she was thinking, though. She still fought to keep her eyes open and focused while she continued speaking, "After everything we've been through together, I can't believe we're still acting like two shy children around each other."

"'We'? I seem to recall myself being the one who's admitted the truth. You're the one who's been dodging me."

She used her other hand to tap Cal on the top of his head with her index finger. "Don't be insolent, small fry," she said with the same suggestive tone from earlier. Her finger then became unusually heavy, causing Cal to stumble backwards and onto his butt. She didn't seem to know what she was doing while her finger rubbed all the way down Cal's frontside, mussing up his clothes before her hand finally hit the ground.

"Agh! Watch it!" Cal exclaimed. She came dangerously close to hitting a certain tender area. The smell of alcohol on her breath permeated the air around him. "Alright, maybe this isn't such a good idea. I should get going."

Klan was starting to wind down and barely managed a response, slowly shaking her head as it pivoted on the table by her chin, "Mmm-mmm... you're too drunk to go home. You should just stay here with me." Her voice was unusually soft, but it was also slurred. She kept her eyes closed, but still responded to Cal's statements.

"_I'm_ too drunk? You got it backwards, Klan. You're not yourself right now."

"Nonsense... I've just never bothered to be this candid before. It does feel nice, though." She inched her arm towards her face, bringing Cal even closer. "I think I might be able to get used to this."

"Let's not do anything hasty, now. You're starting to behave very strangely. You don't want do do anything you will regret later, do you?"

"Nah, I won't regret it. Don't be scared; I know exactly what I'm doing."

Cal had no idea what was going through her head at this moment. "Regret what? What are you doing?" He could see that Klan was barely able to keep her eyes open, but she still wore the same eerie smile on her face. There was a certain glimmer that would sparkle from in between her eyelids when she attempted to see in front of her.

Refusing to verbally answer his question, Klan simply did the next-best thing. She slowly closed the gap between him and her face; her eyes were still closed and she clumsily pursed her lips.

The phrase "_Oh shit_!" passed through Cal's head at that very moment as he began to realize what was about to happen. However, the words that came out of his mouth were a bit different, "Don't, Klan! You're drunk!" For some reason, his plan of escape had completely disappeared from his mind and he sat there, unable to react.

As she got closer, her head began to dip lower and lower until Cal found himself pinned between her arm and cheek. "Ack! Klan! I can't breathe!" he exclaimed. He pushed against her face as much as possible to give himself some breathing space, but her head was too heavy and kept trying to come to rest on top of him. "Get... off!" he yelled, assuming that she had just drunkenly missed her target and lost track of what she was doing. However, she had completely stopped moving and began emitting the faint, but distinct sound of snoring.

All efforts to free himself were met with futility. His only chance of salvation was to somehow get her to wake up from her drunken slumber and move just enough to get free. "Klan! Wake up! I can't move!" he yelled towards her nearby ear. Lack of response led him to try a physical approach. He opened her eyelid, but there was no sign of activity. He then pinched her skin with his hand as hard as he could, which did evoke a reaction.

Klan shifted her head a bit, grinding his body against her arm. She used her other hand to scratch the exact spot that Cal had pinched her; basically telling him that what he was doing amounted to little more than a mosquito bite. Fortunately, the slight shift gave Cal room to breathe more comfortably.

"Goddammit..." He clicked his tongue in frustration after seeing Klan scratch her face where he'd seemingly tickled her. Not willing to take any chances, Cal decided to quit while he was ahead; that is, while he could actually breathe without any kind of struggling involved. He quietly hoped that Nene would quickly return to free him from captivity, "Nene'd better get here fast. If she doesn't, my back is gonna be killing me in the morning." Cal leaned over and propped his head up on one of his arms while he waited for a miracle to free him.

In the meantime, he had the opportunity to reflect upon the events that had just transpired. The good news was that he finally got Klan to show some of her uninhibited feelings. The bad news was that it was all fueled by her inebriated state. Who knows what she's going to think or say when she snaps out of her drunken slumber?


	44. Approach Shot

A/N: Alright, it's that time again, folks. Today's chapter submission is actually only part of my original Chapter 44. After a lot of deliberation, I decided to break it up into two parts. This little "experiment" of mine, where I am drastically increasing the size of chapters to help speed the story along, is not really working out with the intended results. It's taking me far too long to write each chapter and I'm afraid that you guys will start to lose interest in the story because of the large gaps of time in between postings. So, here's how it's gonna work out: This chapter is part 1 of 2, both of which will become the new Chapters 44 and 45. I finished my _original_ Chapter 45 yesterday, but I will break that up into either 2 or 3 chapters... probably 3. My Chapter 45 ended up coming out at almost twenty eight THOUSAND words. There's more than enough content to make four regular-sized chapters, there! So, even though I haven't been posting as regularly as you'd like, I've been dutifully hammering away at my keyboard, creating a lot of new content.

What this means is that I will be posting much more regularly, sticking to the old format of six to eight thousand words per chapter. The new Chapter 45 will have 15k words, and then I will start to break up my OLD Chapter 45 (the one I just finished writing yesterday). Also, that means that there are about 4 chapters of completed content between this one and my next chapter, which I haven't started working on yet. The good news? Expect more frequent updates. The bad news? The updates will just have less meat on them, that's all... ;)

On the personal front, I am at the end of my little three-week vacation from school. I start my summer classes on Monday and I'm taking 11 units through the two summer semesters at my local community college. My last semester came out pretty decent. I ended up knocking out 22 units (three units were a wintermester class, but it still counts as a spring class), and ended up with 3 A's and 3 B's. _Not good enough!_ lol... I realized that I had bitten off more than I could comfortably chew and I should have spent more time studying. The lesson? I'm not taking such a heavy load again, unless I just stop working a part-time job altogether. All of that course load on top of a 30-hour work week was really starting to kick my ass at the end of the semester and I blew off studying for my finals for my classes... The result? I did very shitty on all of my finals. So, as the saying goes, "Everything went better than expected!" since I still managed to eke out 3 A's and 3 B's. I'm going to reduce my work hours to about 15 per week, since the summer classes are on a compressed schedule. I'll be busy, but I am planning my schedule out so I'll have the weekends all to myself. That means that I should have time each week to work on some writing and keep things moving along.

Once I am finished with my summer classes, I will be working on transferring myself to the university. In case anyone is wondering, I will be attending the University of Texas at Arlington for the next three years. I'm moving onto the campus, so there may be a slight delay in postings towards mid-August while I get situated in my new living arrangements. Until then, we'll have a couple of months in which to get a few more chapters posted. I might actually post the next chapter sometime shortly after this week. Keep an eye out for a quick update, but enjoy this one in the meantime! -(06/05/11)

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A peaceful calm filled the air while Cal rested comfortably on his bed. Subconsciously, he shifted his head slightly to nestle his face even deeper into the soft pillow. It felt as if there was a heat source built into the cushioning; even his blankets were warmer than usual. They seemed to be heavy enough to keep his legs and torso pressed into the mattress. It was as if he was sleeping in one of the beds at a luxury hotel. Just like hunger is the best spice for any food, exhaustion always makes one's bed too cozy to resist.

Unfortunately, his serene slumber was interrupted by the sound of a nearby door opening and closing. A feeling of paranoia suddenly swept over him, as if someone might be trespassing into his room to wake him again. After opening his eyes, a quick visual sweep around the room showed that nothing seemed to be out of place and the door remained firmly shut. Cal then sighed in relief and let his head fall back down onto the pillow, so he could further enjoy the sensation of overwhelming comfort he was experiencing at the time.

Not but a few moments later, a series of slight vibrations began to shake his bed and they only seemed to increase in intensity with each successive incident, before weakening again. The vibrations resembled footsteps, leading Cal to wonder if someone was operating a Work Destroid near the house. Unable to resist investigating the source of the racket, he decided to sit up and look out of the window next to his bed. However, the blankets that had been weighing him down and keeping him warm now felt like they were impossible to move. He struggled to remove them with his arms, but to no avail. With all of his might, he pushed upwards on the comforter to free his body and winced his face while focusing on the task at hand.

His strength quickly gave out and he relaxed his arms, allowing the blankets to fall back onto him with their heavy weight. He then opened his eyes to find himself in another place. He was no longer in his own bed, but trapped in place in some other environment. Cal looked around to get a bearing on his location and began to remember why he was stuck in that position. Tufts of long, blue hair had fallen all around him, reminding him of what had happened the night before. The same rhythmic vibrations from his dream began again, signaling him, through the solid countertop, of nearby footsteps.

"Nene? Is that you?" Cal strained to call out, hoping someone would hear.

She had just entered the kitchen area near the pass-through where she had been serving drinks to Klan the night before. Upon hearing Cal's faint voice, she stopped moving and looked around. Her head turned left and right several times before she gave up on trying to find the source of the voice on her own. "Cal?" she softly asked. She continued to pan her eyes around the room on her search.

"Yeah! Get me out of here!"

Nene began to triangulate Cal's position after hearing him speak again and she approached the countertop upon which Klan was still sleeping. She caught sight of Cal waving one of his freed arms to get her attention. It was all he could do, since his body was mostly concealed by Klan's arm and face. What could be seen above that was partially covered by her hair. "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed as she lurched forward to free him. She gently tilted Klan's head away and pulled her arm back to free him.

Cal stood up and practically ran away from the location of his former prison. He stopped after several paces and straightened out his clothes. He forcefully exhaled as he dusted off his pants and shirt. He held something in his hand, out of sight of Nene, and exclaimed in frustration, "Aw, goddammit!"

"What happened?" Nene asked, trying not to make light of Cal's predicament. A slight laugh still made its way into her voice.

"She got drunk and passed out. I couldn't get myself out of there!" He was hiding something behind his back and stuffed it into his pocket.

"I can see that. ...but I want to know how you got caught between her arm and her face like that!" Nene had already formed a couple of guesses in her mind, but she asked anyways.

"Wait a minute..." Cal replied with a bit of disdain in his voice, "You're not even surprised that she passed out drunk? You _meant_ to get her drunk, didn't you?"

Nene rolled her eyes and blew her hair out of her face with a heavy sigh. A smile creased its way across her face after she looked back at Cal again, confirming her guilt. "Yes, but only just a little. I didn't think she'd drink so much that she'd eventually pass out."

"Why the hell would you want to get her drunk and then leave us all alone like that?" Cal's demeanor was beginning to reach an infuriated state. After all, he could have been crushed to death if things had gone slightly differently.

"I figured that if she got a few drinks into her, she'd finally show some honesty towards you. It's ridiculous how you two just can't seem to be straightforward with each other. I instructed Will to get you to down a few beers with the hopes that you'd also lose some of your inhibitions and you two could finally speak with each other on more frank terms."

"Goddammit, Nene. You didn't even consider the possibility of something like _this_ happening?" Cal asked, referencing the predicament in which he had spent the entire night.

"Well, if you mean 'spending the night together', yes," she replied with a laugh.

Cal did not find her joke to be amusing at all and fumed while he stood on the countertop, glaring up at Nene. "Not funny at **all**." He just folded his arms in front of him and glared upwards at her.

"So, how _did_ you end up in that spot, Cal? What were you two doing with each other?" She couldn't wait for his answer and fought hard to hold down the urge to squeak out in joy.

"It's not what _I_ did, it's what _she_ did. I insisted on leaving and she wouldn't let me go. We talked about how it seemed like you were setting us up in that situation. Then all of a sudden, she just started apologizing for generally ignoring me and behaving the way she does around me. Although it was refreshing to hear her say such things, I knew that she was only doing it because she was drunk. Then she just suddenly got all... frisky with me before she passed out."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Cal," Nene casually replied. She didn't seem to want to accept his words as the truth.

"Come on... Everyone knows that people can become brutally honest when they've been drinking. Even _you_ admitted that that was your intention." Cal stopped talking and looked back at the sleeping Klan next to him. He sighed heavily before continuing, "She even admitted to hugging me earlier this morning when she was making me run up that hill in the park."

"Oh yeah, she did tell me about how she made you run up the hill with her on your back. I was wondering what the heck she was going to do with that riding crop that she had bought and now I know!" Nene laughed.

"Yeah, well... she initially denied it, but she confessed to hugging me while I was carrying her. Again, it took alcohol to drag it out of her." Cal winced and shook his head as he had finally convinced himself to answer Nene's initial question. "I am pretty sure she tried to kiss me last night and that's how I got stuck in that position all night. She passed out just as she was about to do it and trapped me between her head and arm."

Countless motes of light seemed to form in Nene's eyes upon hearing his admission. "Oh... my... god..." she slowly uttered, covering her mouth with one hand. A high-pitched, sustained squeak quietly emitted from within Nene, almost as if it had uncontrollably erupted from inside of her body.

"Stop that!" Cal demanded as he shot a glare back up towards Nene. "It doesn't _mean_ anything. She was drunk, alright?"

Nene still hopped in place out of glee, but she tried her best to remain quiet. Putting herself back together, she regained a more serious composure. "Okay, I'm better now. Why didn't you call me? I would have come back to get you out."

"First of all, I couldn't even reach my phone while I was trapped in there. Second of all, it wouldn't have mattered anyways because of _this_," Cal said as he finally showed his PDA in his hand. It was completely destroyed, crushed under Klan's weight during the night. The screen was shattered, and the device had nearly popped completely in half at the seams along the outside edges. There was no sign of activity from the phone. He tried his best to not let it get to him and instead deeply sighed to release that frustration out in a non-negative way. Shaking his head, Cal turned back towards Klan to watch her continue sleeping. He just didn't seem to be able to turn away. "There's something mesmerizing about watching her sleep, Nene."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know... It's just different than when she's awake. She's like a dynamo; a seemingly inexhaustible source of energy, hell-bent on accomplishing everything she tasks herself with... and making sure that I'm staying on-track with my own life," he said with a slight laugh. "Then I see her when she's asleep, and it's hard to believe that I'm looking at the same person. It's truly a beautiful sight to see." He reached over to Klan with his hand and cleared a few tufts of her hair away from her face. She still continued the same slow-paced breathing as she had done all night long.

Nene noticed Cal's sincere expression and had to ask. "You really are in love with her, aren't you?"

He looked up at Nene and was surprised to see that she remained serious in her composure, instead of being giddy like before. Following a deep sigh, he managed to, once again, answer the question without evading it, "Yeah. I am. I just wish that I could tell her exactly what I think of her, but I'm always afraid that she won't take it very well. She might not feel the same way."

"That's preposterous, Cal. Did you forget what she told you and what she did to you last night- or, at least _tried_ to do?" Nene asked with another slight laugh.

"It doesn't mean anything when she's drunk. Maybe there's a reason she hasn't said anything to me."

"Perhaps, but... Nevermind." Nene shifted her posture a bit, since she had been leaning onto the counter from the side opposite of Klan. "What is it that's so difficult to say to her? What would you say if you could?"

Cal glared at Nene out of the corner of his eyes, almost cursing her for asking such invasive questions. However, he seemed to be even more upset about the fact that he couldn't resist answering them. Following a heavy sigh, he proceeded, "Every time I see her, I get those damn butterflies in my stomach. Even when she calls me on the phone, it makes my heart beat faster. I try so hard not to let myself be affected by my attraction to her, but it's almost impossible to do so." He cleared another few tufts of hair from her face and walked around to the other side of her head. He continued to inspect her face for inspiration for his words. "So angelic..." he muttered.

"What?"

"Angelic. It's almost like she's a guardian angel. Ever since I met her, she's made it a point to be there for me when I need her the most. Even when we constantly fought with each other back on the Quarter, there was always something keeping us from coming completely apart. No matter what, I now know that she'll make it her business to keep me out of trouble and on the right track of life. I guess that's how she usually is."

"Yeah..." Nene trailed off, "I know exactly what you mean. I've seen her do it with the people that matter most to her, even though she'll never admit it. But with you, it's almost as if you're some kind of project. She's more focused on you than she usually is."

"Quit encouraging me," Cal said with a laugh. He didn't want to hear such positive things about the situation. He'd much rather keep a realistic point of view on things, so he won't get his hopes up so much. "I am glad to hear that, though. It's not often that someone would dedicate their efforts towards bettering myself. For that, I'm grateful. I just wish there was a way that I could show my appreciation."

"When a simple 'thanks' isn't good enough, huh?"

Cal nodded his head, "She just doesn't know that I'd do _anything_ for her. She is beautiful to me." He gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. He then lifted his hand and replaced it near the corner of her eye.

Almost as if it was a reflex, Klan flinched by squinting her eye. Her skin then slowly returned back to a relaxed position. Cal casually performed the same touch, only to find the same reaction.

Taking note of her reaction to his contact, Cal retracted his hand and began to show embarrassment in his face. He cleared his throat and backed away from Klan, as if he had made some kind of mistake. "Well, I'd better get out of here before we wake her up," he said as he headed over to the nearby table for his jacket. "All of this talking right next to her is probably not doing her any good."

After agreeing with him, Nene walked over to the front door to let Cal outside after he had managed to make it to the floor on his own. "Don't worry, Cal. I have a feeling that she'll come around to you real soon."

Cal couldn't help but shake his head and smile at Nene's unflinching optimism. "Do me a favor and make sure that she gets plenty of water once she wakes up. She's probably going to have a massive headache then."

"Awww, That's so sweet of you to be so considerate for her," Nene swooned.

"I told you to cut that out!" Cal jokingly demanded. He held up an unopened package of pretzels that he had stolen from the snack tray before he hopped off of the counter and onto the adjacent couch earlier. "Thanks for 'breakfast'. I'll see you later."

Nene happily bid him a goodbye before closing the door and heading back into the kitchen area. She immediately met his request by filling up a large tumbler with water from the nearby faucet and placed it next to Klan's head so she'd be able to drink from it whenever she finally awoke from her sleep. After cleaning up the countertop, Nene left her sister still sleeping on the barstool and headed into her room to freshen up a bit.

Not even a minute after closing her own door behind her, she heard a series of faint footsteps passing by her door. The sound of Klan's bedroom door latching shut caused her to quickly investigate. Nene re-opened her door and saw that the bedroom door across the hall was now closed. The barstool upon which Klan had been sleeping was now vacant, and the large glass of water that she had placed onto the counter was missing.

Nene tiptoed across the hallway to put her ear against Klan's door. The distinct sound of rustling blankets could be heard on the other side. "Klan? Are you okay?" she softly asked. She received no answer. There was now no sound coming from inside of the room. She had mixed feelings about everything that had just transpired. Part of her felt like what she had done was the correct course of action, but there were nagging doubts in her mind about it all. Cal was determined to not get caught up in his emotions, but at least he was frank with her about his feelings for her sister. She then began to consider the stunning possibility that Klan was able to hear some, if not all, of her conversation with Cal. It didn't take very long before Klan woke up and she did it when Nene was not in the room to say anything to her about it.

…

"I'm out here near the gateway to Laplamiz, where protesters have organized a rally to help get their message out," a reporter declared in response to the news anchors' query, "As you can see, a lot of people have already arrived for the event and many more are expected to show up as the day goes on. So far, everything has been pretty calm and cheery."

The television broadcast set the reporter's video into a smaller box in the corner, revealing the news anchors sitting behind their desk in the studio. "Can you tell us a few details as to _why_ these people have chosen to spend their valuable time at such an event? What do they stand for?"

"Well, among other things, they are here to express their disapproval of the administration's policies. Namely, their outright refusal to institute a mandatory micloning policy for Zentrans, the continuing war against a seemingly-nonexistent enemy, and for allowing such a mass-immigration of Zentraedi, which has thrown off the population representation from its previous levels. Resource availability is on the forefront of everyone's priority lists."

Watching the morning news program from the comfort of Ozma's couch, Cathy expressed a bit of her disapproval. "I really love how these news programs only highlight these so-called 'grassroots' political movements, as if they're the greatest thing since sliced bread," she declared as she sat up from her previous position on Ozma's lap, "I've yet to see any of these 'journalists' actually do any journalism work. They're just a _mis_information outlet for anti-administration dissenters."

Ozma's approach to the issue wasn't quite antagonistic. He just wanted to make sure Cathy wasn't blindly charging into the issue. "Well, if that's what gets them their ratings, then it's the fault of the viewers for not fact-checking the media. People have a right to protest their government's actions."

"I know that, Ozma," she replied with a bit of impatience, "It's just that someone needs to come out and call them on their bullshit, you know?"

"Why don't you do it?"

"Oh, believe me, I'd _love_ to. But, I can't risk getting myself into hot water. You have seen how easy it is for these people to convince their viewers of anything they want. Next thing I know, I'd have a thousand people petitioning the Joint Chiefs to relieve me of my position," she replied while shaking her head in disgust. "I'd almost pay to see someone stand up to the media and expose them for the frauds that they are."

"I'm sure it'll happen at some point, Hon," Ozma said as he tugged at her shoulders from behind to get her to lay down again.

Just as she began to acquiesce to his physical gesture, the sound of the garage door opening could be heard through the wall on the other side of the living room. "_There_ he is..." Ozma muttered under his breath.

About a minute passed before Cal opened the door leading to the garage and noticed Ozma and Cathy on the couch. He hesitated to walk into the living room, thinking that perhaps it wasn't a good time for him to come gallivanting into Ozma's house. "Oh, umm..." he stammered, stopping his forward velocity mid-stride.

"Welcome back. Late night drinking?" Ozma playfully asked.

"You could say that..." Cal replied with a relieved sigh. He smiled at Cathy as he closed the door behind him and walked around the living room furniture towards the kitchen. She simply smiled in return and remained silent while she laid in Ozma's lap. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything special," Cal's voice echoed from inside of the kitchen.

"No, all the the 'action' happened awhile ago, so you missed it," Cathy replied with a laugh.

"Shh!" Ozma chided, smiling after slightly jerking her shoulder to silence her. He laughed off the slight feeling of discomfort Cathy's comment had caused him.

"Oh yeah?" Cal laughed, still in the kitchen. It sounded like he was rummaging through the refrigerator for something to eat. "I'm glad I didn't come home last night, then."

"Where were you, anyway? You never came home after you left with Klan early yesterday morning," Ozma asked.

"We managed to have a little Pixie Team reunion last night. I ended up sleeping at their place because I had a few too many drinks." A half-truth, but a well-constructed one. It was designed to throw Ozma off of the scent trail.

"Yeah, I remember those days..." Ozma casually remarked. Those years quickly came and went for him, even though he was now a rather young 28 years old. He had spent his early adult years as a father-figure to Ranka, but he managed to occasionally find time to have some drinks with his friends back then. Now, he had a career and relationship to keep him out of any kinds of trouble that late-night drinking might bring.

Cal emerged from the kitchen, holding a cold slice of pizza in his hand. He was still chewing his first bite as he stood behind the couch upon which Ozma and Cathy were sitting. He watched the news program for a moment before reacting in a way that was similar to Cathy. "Rabble-rousers!" he simply declared with a shake of his head.

Suddenly, Cathy became interested in Cal's reaction. She sat up and looked at him from behind the couch cushions. "I was just talking about this with Ozma before you came in. What do _you_ think about all of this?"

Cal looked down towards Cathy and swallowed his bite so he could answer. "All of this has been done so many times before in the history of our civilization. Those people probably have no idea that they're being manipulated; that they're just helping someone else come into power. So many times in Earth's history has someone led a peoples' revolt against the government, deposed the leadership, and then the power vacuum is always filled in by some brutally despotic totalitarian regime. Everyone remembers the revolutionary figure, but they don't realize that their 'idol' is responsible for bringing a new level of oppression onto the people."

A moment of silence filled the room, except for the television still playing in the background. "That's a bit _different_ of an answer than I expected, but yeah, that's all pretty true," Cathy remarked with hesitation, "Say, if I remember correctly, you mentioned to me that you might be interested in public service after you get out of the NUNS. Has that desire changed at all?"

"Well, I haven't given it much more thought since then. Right now, I'm just focused on doing my job as a combat pilot. What these people don't realize is that we're in a state of war against an extremely dangerous enemy. The last thing we need right now is an _internal_ war; this colony is vulnerable enough as it is. Maybe after all of this conflict is over and I've served out my term of service... we'll see..." he replied with a shrug.

Such an honest and accurate answer was refreshing to Cathy. She smiled and nodded at his response. "You gotta do what you gotta do..." Quickly changing the subject, she had to make a remark about his diet. "Are you _really_ eating cold pizza for breakfast?"

"Of course I am. It's a breakfast of champions!"

Ozma had to chime in agreement, "Oh yeah. You've never had cold pizza for breakfast before?"

"**God**, no," Cathy replied with a look of disgust on her face. She even physically recoiled to increase her distance from the accursed food in Cal's hand nearby. "Someone needs to teach you boys how to cook _decent_ food for yourselves. Honestly, if it wasn't for us women, you'd probably all be shoveling dirt into your mouths at mealtime." Ozma and Cal snickered at her reaction while they watched her get up from the couch. She straightened out her clothes and finished her miniature diatribe, "Well, at least _one_ of you won't have to worry about the cooking thing for much longer..."

Just as Cathy started to smooth out her shirt with her hands, Ozma gently grabbed her left hand and placed it behind her back. "Cathy..." he said with a hushing tone. He then let go of her hand.

"Oh... yeah..." she quietly replied with a nervous laugh, "Anyway, I'd love to stick around, but I have a few things to take care of at the office before tomorrow."

To avoid any discomfort, Cal turned to watch the television while Ozma and Cathy doted on each other before saying their goodbyes. Once they were done, Cathy smoothly made her way past Cal towards the door, making a conscious effort to hide whatever was in her hand behind her back. A casual goodbye and she was gone from sight.

Cal took another bite from his "breakfast" and remarked to Ozma, who was folding a blanket and fixing the couch cushions. "She's a good woman," he said with his mouth full of food, "I'm sure you feel lucky to have her, Commander."

Ozma chose not to verbally answer Cal's statement, but his physical gesture did all of the agreeing. "You know, you can just call me 'Ozma'." His request seemed to come out of left field.

It obviously caught Cal by surprise. "You sure about that?"

"I appreciate that you've continued to refer to me in a formal fashion, but all of the veteran members of the squadron refer to me on a first-name basis. You've been with us for a few months and survived the first campaign. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that you've eased your way into the 'family'."

A satisfied grin crept across Cal's face. It was refreshing to hear the squadron commander accepting him as a "veteran".

"Of course, only do it in a casual fashion. The rules still apply when we're in a formal setting, such as being on-duty," Ozma added.

"Oh, yeah... I totally understand."

Ozma finished his chore and strolled around the living room, making sure everything was straightened and in order. "By the way, have you put in a housing request for yourself?" Cal shook his head. "Go ahead and get that done as soon as possible. I'm going to be changing living arrangements after we return from our next tour of duty." He made note of Cal's sudden look of guilt. "Don't worry, it's not that I'm trying to get rid of you. You're welcome to stay here until we finally ship out, but once we get back, I need the house cleared."

"Oh, okay. You're moving?"

Ozma laughed at the obvious question. "All questions will be answered tomorrow at the picnic. I've got a ton of announcements to make, including some information about our next deployment orders."

"Understood! I've got some errands to run today. I'll get that taken care of while I'm out," Cal said as he grabbed his jacket and began to head back into the garage to get on the road again. "Don't worry," he said as he held the door open to look back at Ozma, "I won't tell anyone about you and Miss Cathy." He smiled and shut the door behind him, leaving Ozma wondering what exactly he meant about that.

…

Nene had been enjoying the peace and quiet by wrapping herself up with a blanket on the couch and burying her face into the latest edition of her favorite fashion magazine. A cup of hot cocoa sat next to her on the endtable. For the last half hour or so, she had been hearing some activity coming from her sister's room. Her curiosity was quickly subdued by the sound of the bedroom door opening from behind where she sat. "That was a quick nap. Feeling any better?" she asked as she turned around to see Klan coming out of the hallway. Upon seeing her sister, her smile turned into a look of indifference. "Oh, I thought I heard the shower running, but I was too lazy to get up and find out for myself."

Klan was putting the finishing touches onto her NUNS uniform on her way into the kitchen. She filled up a large water bottle from the faucet as she replied to Nene, "Yeah, I got called in to the base. There's some impromptu meeting that they need me for. It doesn't sound good, to be honest..." she trailed off. She popped a couple of pills into her mouth before taking a swig from her bottle. The pills were most likely for her headache.

There were a few questions burning a hole through Nene's head at that moment, but one seemed to jump out at her. "By the way, did you hear anyone talking near you before you woke up this morning?"

Klan was already on her way out the door, but her stride slowed down for a moment upon hearing Nene's question. "Nope, not a thing," she answered with very little hesitation. She opened the door and looked at her sister once more before slamming it shut behind her.

Nene didn't really want to over-analyze Klan's reaction, and instead chose to bury her face back into her magazine to get her mind off of things.

…

"Hmm... I like the pattern, but the it doesn't go well with your hair color," Bobby remarked as he inspected a bolt of cloth laid out before him on the table. He rummaged through the shelf that was stocked with countless varieties of cloth.

Jen quietly stood beside him, unsure of whether or not she should throw any suggestions in. After all, he was the expert at things like this.

"Ah! This is perfect!" he exclaimed, pulling another bolt out of the plethora of colors and patterns, "Now, I just need to get a few supplies and we'll be done here."

They both headed to the cashier near the front entrance. Lam and Mena were standing near the front, admiring a dress that was fitted onto the window mannequin. Outside of the window, many patrons could be seen walking by in front of the store and the occasional car would slowly pass by on the road. Another row of shops lined the other side of the street.

Just as they finished their transaction, Jen and Bobby headed towards the store's exit when Bobby stopped in his tracks and peered into the distance. "Oh, I don't believe it..." he muttered. The other three women were confused at his sudden statement, but they soon realized why he wore a slightly surprised look.

Across the street, Cal walked along the sidewalk while he read a pamphlet from one hand and occasionally glancing over to his phone in the other. He carried a small plastic bag with a store logo on it, indicating that he had been doing some shopping of his own.

Without saying a word, Bobby snatched Jen's phone from her hand and furiously scrolled through her address book.

"Hey!" Jen exclaimed at his audacity. Taking note of the mischievous look on Bobby's face, she immediately knew of what he was thinking. "You'd better not be calling him!"

"Don't worry, I'm not calling him," he replied. His gaze was fixed on her phone's screen while his thumbs were busily tapping out a message. Before Jen could realize what exactly he was doing, he finished his business and handed it back to her. "There you go. You're welcome."

After a couple of second's delay, Cal stopped walking and wore a bit of a surprised look on his face. He punched a couple of keys on his phone before reading the message that Bobby had sent to him. He nervously looked up and around him, as if he was afraid of something.

Jen read the message that Bobby had sent and turned red with embarrassment. "Bobby! How could you? Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you're getting me into right now?"

He simply smiled, shrugged, and waved towards Cal to get his attention from across the street.

Cal took notice of Bobby flailing his arms above his head and began to piece together the facts. After grunting in frustration, he checked both sides of the street for any vehicle traffic before dashing off towards Jen, Bobby, Lam, and Mena.

As Cal approached, Jen felt it absolutely necessary to clear up any misconceptions. "I'm sorry, Cal! Bobby stole my phone and texted that message to you!" she exclaimed as she elbowed Bobby in the side.

Although the facts had been set straight, Cal felt even more uncomfortable, having received such a suggestive text from another man. He tried not to let it affect his demeanor too much, although some apprehension found its way into his speech. "Oh. I was confused for a moment there... It's a good thing you cleared that up. Now, I just feel a little awkward."

"What, you've never been hit on by a man before?" Bobby asked, as if the very question was absurd. He quickly dissolved the discomfort of the situation, "Don't worry, I was just kidding anyway. My heart belongs to another, anyways..."

Cal waited for Bobby to tell him who that person was, but got no answer. He then looked at Jen, curious for any kind of information.

"Later," she said as she turned his shoulders to point him in the same direction that they were heading. "What are you doing out here?"

"I was gadget shopping," he replied, "I had to get a new phone because my old one got smashed. I decided to downsize to a regular phone this time."

"How?"

A brief silence followed Jen's question before Cal answered, "Later." He then looked at the motley crew of bridge bunnies all around him and noticed that something was out of place. "Say... Isn't there supposed to be another one...?" Everyone remained silent, as if they had no idea of whom he was referring. "The one with short, orange-ish hair? The radar officer?"

"Oh, you mean _Monica_," Lam replied with definite sarcasm in her voice.

"Yeah, her..." Cal rolled his eyes at the response, knowing full well that they were stretching him out a bit.

"She's got some official business to take care of at NUNS HQ. She's attending the round-table for her promotion right now," Mena replied.

"Promotion?" Cal was feeling a little bit of envy, but he realized that he'd just been promoted too. "Good for her," he said with confidence, "I hope she passes."

"Speaking of promotions," Jen said, "We still haven't congratulated you in our own way." Suddenly, Cal didn't like where this was going. "What do you say?" she asked of her compatriots, "I think his hair is getting a little too long and he could use a new style, right?"

"What? No!" Cal said as he began to struggle against Jen's sudden grasp of his arm. Before he knew it, he was being hurried down the street by the bridge crew. Vocal quips of agreement cascaded all around him, confirming his undesirable destiny with some hairdresser in some shop. Deep down inside, though, the female attention that he was getting was a little refreshing, and it kept him from fully resisting their will. Maybe some good can come out of all of this. He had been considering trying a bit of a different style anyway.

Just as he was beginning to acquiesce to their will, he heard his phone chime with a new text message. He was unable to resist not reading the message and wrested himself free from their grasp so he could read it in a bit of privacy off to the side. He nervously sighed after reading the message, as if there was enormous anticipation.

"It can't be _that_ bad," Bobby remarked from a few feet away. He was always able to read people as if it was a second language to him.

Cal put the phone back onto his waist. "I have a woman question for you guys," he asked. He turned to Jen and gave her a bit of an apologetic look, for some reason. "What does it mean if you've told someone that you're in love with them and they don't seem to be able to answer it in kind?"

The question took everyone by complete surprise, especially Jen. She had always been under the impression that he was just slightly out of her reach. Of course, Bobby had to answer it before anyone else could say anything. "Well," he said with a laugh, "Love doesn't necessarily have to be returned in kind. I, myself, have outgrown unrequited love. However, that doesn't apply to everyone. Who are we talking about, here?"

"Oh, no..." Cal replied, "I'm just asking this as a hypothetical situation. What would you guys do if you were in that situation?"

"Sure it is," Mena said with a gentle nudge from her elbow.

A round of laughs came from everyone except Jen. She was still slightly shocked that he'd ask such a question. After the chuckling subsided, Bobby finally offered up a tasty morsel of advice, "Just confront her with the issue. I can't be any more straightforward than that. If you've been pretty obvious about your feelings for her, she can't ignore them for forever. Only a heartless bitch would keep you hanging on like that. If that turns out to be the case, then forget about her. She doesn't deserve you."

Cal let the advice set in for a moment and stared blankly at the pedestrian traffic in front of them. He snapped out of it after a few moments and turned around to face them as he walked backwards. "Alright. I have some important business to take care of right now. I'm going to have to take a raincheck on your offer, if that's alright."

"Go get her," Jen finally chimed in. It seemed that she had finally accepted that Cal's mind and heart were in another place. After all, she's been involved with someone else for the past couple of months and she can't expect him to stay single for forever. It's not quite right to see him as a safety net, should things not go well with her current relationship.

Cal bid them all goodbye and started heading in the opposite direction from where they were walking. However, Jen was still feeling a bit of sadness upon the realization that she wasn't on the top of Cal's priority lists. To think that way was quite selfish of her.

Bobby put his arm around her, well-aware of the fact that she still has some lingering feelings for him. "You can't win them all," he calmly stated, "I wonder who it is..."

…

"Hey! Back so soon?" Nene inquired as she answered the door. It had taken her a moment to look downwards after opening it, having expected another full-sized Zentran to be there. Instead, Cal stood there looking up at her with a friendly smile. She stepped aside to let him in and closed the door behind him.

"Klan texted me a little while ago and asked me to come over. She said it was important and that I should get here as soon as I could," he replied. He watched Nene walk back over to her spot on the couch and bundle herself up with a blanket, as she had been sitting that way all afternoon. He soon followed her and decided to negotiate his way up onto the single-seat couch set perpendicular to Nene's seat. "You know, I wish they'd let us at least use civilian-version EX-gears when we're in Laplamiz. It sure would make things a lot easier," he casually remarked about his having to climb on furniture to get around in their apartment.

"Need a boost?"

"No, I got it." Cal finally reached the topside of the cushion and plopped himself down at the very back of the seat with a relieved sigh. Reclining against the back of the couch, he looked around and took note of how quiet it was in the apartment at that point. "Is... she not here right now?"

"No, she left awhile ago because she got called up for duty. She said that there was some important last-minute meeting that she had to attend. I haven't heard from her since." She put on a slightly-mischievous look on her face, "I wonder if she's finally going to set things straight, right?"

Cal didn't really want to answer her seemingly-hypothetical question. He just glared at her with a scolding demeanor before resetting his face back to indifference. "Well, she messaged me about an hour ago. I guess she expected to be home about now."

Just as Cal removed his new phone from its holder to check the time, the door latch turned and Klan walked through the door. She still wore her NUNS uniform and carried a small knapsack; it probably had a few personal belongings in it. She immediately spotted Cal sitting on the couch, but the sight of him there caused her to make a facial gesture that showed a hint of frustration. A soft sigh escaped from her mouth and she straightened out her expression once more.

Nene had noticed a bit of dampness on her uniform. "Is it raining out there?"

"Yeah, it just started right before I got here. We're supposed to be getting a brief shower or two before it clears up later this evening." Klan dropped the knapsack from her shoulder and held it in her hand as she walked into the living room. "Nene, can you uh... give us some time alone?"


	45. Approach Shot, part 2

A/N: As promised, here's a much more timely update to the story. This is part 2 of my original Chapter 44, which is now Chapter 45. As always, comments are appreciated! -(06/19/11)

* * *

With little hesitation, Nene calmly rose from her seat and took her blanket with her into her room. On the way there, she managed to crack a smile at both of them, as if she already knew exactly what this little meeting was all about. The bedroom door shut and latched behind her, but that didn't mean that some things couldn't be heard from the other side.

Satisfied with the conditions, Klan sighed and walked over to the couch upon which Cal was reclining. She calmly sat down on the ground in front of him and let her knapsack drop down to the ground next to her. Her hands clasped together in front of her face as she leaned forward against the cushioning. A look of apprehension moved over her face as she pondered what to say. Suddenly, it just came out with perfect bluntness, "My unit is being deployed."

He tried not to let it affect him too much, but he couldn't help but feel like his heart had skipped a beat in his chest. "Oh. I guess that's what your meeting was about, huh?" His face changed from cautious optimism to realistic disappointment.

"Our ship has been called up to reinforce the fleet in the asteroid belt, and we're going to conduct combat testing of the Rasa while we're out there," Klan nodded. "They didn't tell us exactly when we're shipping out, but they said to expect about a week. I guess they're making some modifications to the ship's hull before sending it into combat." She shrugged as if she was trying to make the situation more comfortable, but it didn't seem to work at all. After shifting her posture and staring at Cal for a moment, she got down to business. "I can imagine that these last few weeks have been difficult for you. If it makes you feel any better, I admit that it's been rough for me as well."

They both smiled at each other, knowing that what she had just said was pretty much dead-on accurate. However, they also both knew that they had to reach a conclusion before this conversation was over.

"I wish it was so much easier for me to be able to handle this situation," Klan admitted, "I am sure that you've been wondering what the hell has been going through my head and you're starting to get impatient with me. I have had to do a lot of soul-searching, and I am frustrated with myself because I couldn't come to any kind of definitive conclusions to this point."

"I told you that it doesn't matter to me, as long as you just remain honest with me and yourself."

"Yeah, you _did_ say that." A brief pause filled the moment before she spoke again, "Things seem to keep getting in the way, and now this. The fact of the matter is that I'm not going to be around here much longer and I know that you will be shipping out soon, too. That means that there's a good chance that we'll never see each other again."

"There's always that possibility," Cal agreed, "But both of our ships might end up getting deployed to the same assignment."

Klan shook her head. "They're changing the overall plan. The main fleet is going to be broken up into smaller sub-fleets to reduce any massive collateral damage, should they come under heavy attack again. This plan will also increase our ability to finally locate the Galaxy mainland carrier, while at the same time, give us the ability to police the system from any kind of outside threat." She briefly closed her eyes and leaned forward to place her hands to each side of where he sat. "Cal. That's not going to leave any time for us."

"'Us'?" It appeared that he was not going to be very accepting of what she was getting at.

"We're soldiers. We're in a war. I don't think I have to remind you of that. While we're doing our jobs, we can't be encumbered by our personal connections."

Cal laughed a bit. "That's a pretty bad excuse."

"Pardon me?" She reeled back a bit in response.

"That hasn't stopped your sister; and I'm sure she's well aware of the situation before. It hasn't stopped countless others who serve now and have served in the past-" Cal closed his eyes and shook his head as he got up from his seat. "Look, that's not the point. I'm not gonna fault you for having such reservations. I truly hope that they don't have to go through what we've gone through in the past. But we can't let that stop us from finding happiness in another."

"That's the thing, though! I... I don't know if I can go through that again, Cal! It's a horrible experience and I wouldn't want you to go through it again either!"

"We all die at some point, Klan. That thought doesn't stop everyone else from loving someone, though. It's just a way of life."

"Even so..." she interjected, "There's so many other issues that we would have to overcome. My genetic anomaly keeps me from living a normal life as a miclone. My miclone form is not..." she briefly cleared her throat, "...not 'equipped' to consummate any kind of relationship with a human or a Zentran in miclone form. I thought 'Maybe not as a miclone, but perhaps if he could overcome his fear of macronization...' Then we find out that you have multiple genetic and physical issues that may keep you from living your life on my scale."

Deep inside, Cal secretly cursed himself for that which was well-beyond his own control. It was the only thing he could think of doing at that time. "I'm sure there are alternatives to fixing those issues."

His answer didn't faze Klan. "We come from entirely different backgrounds. You're Human. I'm Zentran."

"Again, irrelevant. We're the same. So what if our races followed different paths since our creation? What matters is that we're together now as _one_." He looked at her with a bit of a crooked glare. "Or is it that your mother has convinced you otherwise?"

"How can you insinuate that my own mother affects my decisions?" she angrily asked.

Cal took a few steps closer to her face and looked her straight in the eyes, "You're saying that the thought hasn't crossed your mind more than a few times? Deep down inside, you know that your mother is going to give you grief over it. Nene knows this and it doesn't even bother her. So, go ahead and tell me again that she doesn't affect you at all."

Klan sighed in frustration and rolled her eyes. "Fine. But at least you get where I'm coming from."

"I'm not concerned about her. I have no problems standing up to her and proving to her that she's mistaken about her opinions of me... and of Will, for that matter." He sighed and reset his demeanor to move the conversation forward again. "If that's all you can come up with, I'm not really convinced. So far, I've rebutted every reason you've thrown at me. However, I'm not one to have to sit here and convince you of what you _should_ be thinking. That's _your_ decision. I just want to make sure that you're just being honest about everything and so far, I have to say that I'm not feeling it."

"Damn you and your logic," she said out of frustration, "Look, I just don't think this is a good idea. I'm not prepared to attach myself to someone and then lose them again. I know that I will not be there to protect you once I leave, and that's a risk that I'm just not willing to take."

"I completely understand," Cal replied as he neared her face. She was still leaning inwards on the couch with her arms stretched out to each side of the seat. "I'm not going to force you into anything that you don't feel comfortable doing. All I want to know is exactly how you feel. Just let it go... you'll feel better knowing that you don't have to hide what it is that you're thinking."

Following a heavy sigh, she did her best to say what was on her mind, "Cal, I... You know I really do care about you a lot and I'm glad that we've become so close to each other. But, I can't tell you what it is that you really want to hear. It will only make things much more difficult for me. You have to understand this."

"That didn't stop you from saying such things last night."

"Oh, come on... I was drunk. We all say things that we don't intend to when we've had a few too many drinks," she said while rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, but alcohol is known as a 'truth serum' for a reason. People say what's truly on their minds when they've been drinking. I know that what you said is what you've _meant_ to say, but you haven't been able to when you're sober and of sound mind. Then let's not forget what you _did_- or tried to do last night, anyway..."

"Um, what was that?"

"Come on, Klan. You know what happened last night. I know that you heard Nene and I talking about it this morning."

She started to turn a bit red in the cheeks as she coped with the sudden feeling of embarrassment. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Cal," she said as she looked to the side, unable to look into his eyes while saying it.

"Your hair is twitching again," he said with a laugh.

"Will you stop saying that?" she demanded, mashing her hair down again like she did the day before.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an object. "By the way, you owe me for a new phone..." He waved the smashed PDA in his hand as proof before putting it back in his pocket. After a brief laugh, Cal continued, "I know you were awake when we were talking this morning. I didn't know it until I touched your face and you flinched. It was at that moment that I realized that you had awoken at some point and were playing possum, probably hoping that we'd leave you alone."

"Then why'd you leave so abruptly? Why didn't you just demand that I wake up and stop playing games?"

"Because I know that you will have problems reacting to those things that I had said. I'll admit that I was a little embarrassed at the time, too. But I'd do it again, if I could."

"If it's one thing about you that I simultaneously hate and love, it's that you can be ridiculously perceptive about things. I can't get anything past you when you're at your best..." she rolled her eyes, "Ugh, I can't believe I just said that."

"See? It's not hard to say what's on your mind, right?" Cal facetiously replied.

"Well, you certainly haven't said much of what you've been thinking. You just admitted to me that you only said what you said because you thought I was still asleep. Are we being a bit hypocritical?"

"No. I have no problems standing here in front of you telling you the same thing again. ...how I feel whenever I see you, or think about you. ...how the very sight of you makes me weak in the knees. When I think about how we used to be at each other's throats when we first met and now how things have turned out between us, it always puts a huge smile on my face. How someone who is amazing as you are actually takes the time out of her day to make sure that I'm keeping myself on the right path... Out of the millions of people in this colony, you choose to make _me_ your personal focus of attention..."

She closed her eyes to fight back the oncoming emotional response, but it only caused Cal to move closer to her face and try to help her feel better. "Do you know what it's like to find someone who, just by their mere presence, causes you to want to better yourself?" he asked.

"Actually, yes..." she trailed off. However, she didn't go into any details about her response.

"I have to respect your decisions, Klan. If this is what you want, then I will support you on it, but you just need to make sure that you stay honest to your feelings." He reached up and started to touch her cheek. She responded by leaning into his hand while keeping her eyes closed. "I have no reservations in standing here and telling you how beautiful you are to me and that I love you. You should try it; you might be surprised at how easy it is."

At this point, Klan was moving her hands inwards towards Cal as if she was going to embrace him. Just as her palm touched his backside, she gently closed her fingers around him and began to pull him away from her face. "Stop. You're just making this more difficult than it needs to be, Cal," she said while trying not to let her voice sound raspy. "I can't do this. I'm sorry. You have to understand." She opened her eyes and leaned over to rummage through her knapsack. "Here," she said as she pulled something out, "You asked me to return this to you and I've been holding onto it because I either kept forgetting about it, or I just didn't have the chance to return it." She untied the string holding the old chickling hat that she had made for him a couple of months back and slid the hat off to give it to him.

Cal noticed that notorious pair of miclone-sized eyeglasses also attached to the string before she put it back down and out of his sight. "Well, even though you can't say it, I know what's in your heart, Klan." He then offered the hat back to her. "Keep it. You've used it as a reminder, just like Michael's glasses. If I don't survive the next deployment, at least you'll have this to help you remember."

"You shouldn't talk like that. I'm sure you'll be just fine," Klan replied.

"Well, I would like to think that you believe that to be true. Because if you did believe it, then you wouldn't have any reservations about us."

Klan clicked her tongue and scolded him, "Cal! Are you trying to make me feel even worse?" She couldn't help but at least suppress her urge to really get upset.

"Sorry," he said as he looked downwards in mortification. "You know that's the last thing I'd want to do to you. I just want to see you always happy. You have no idea how much better you look when you're smiling."

She couldn't help but grin at his compliment. "See, you know how to make a woman feel good. You should find someone who deserves you more than I do."

"She doesn't exist, but I'll try..." They both nervously laughed at his joke, which helped them to relieve some of the emotional tension building up inside of them.

Cal reached down and grabbed one of Klan's fingers, lifting it up as best as he could. She responded by holding her hand open in front of him, with her fingers pointing up. They both remained silent while Cal gripped her index finger with his hand, and then walked into her palm. He poked his head between her middle and ring fingers, then let his hands drop down to the sides. She simply responded by closing her fingers around him; the gesture was very much akin to a hug. Cal reacted in kind by putting his arms around her hand.

Several precious moments passed in silence before Cal finally let go and she did the same. He let out a heavy sigh as he broke the silence, "I want you to promise me that you won't just give up on love."

"Ugh... Alright, I'll _try_."

"Trust me, Klan. It's worth it, even if it doesn't last for a long time. There's no greater feeling than to love and _be_ loved in return... I know."

She nodded with a bit of apprehension. "Maybe you're right..."

"Just remember: If you're so afraid of death, then how can you ever possibly fall in love?"

Those very words struck a chord within her and caused her to slightly gasp and recoil backwards. Satisfied with his parting words, Cal descended from the couch onto the ground and walked towards the front door. Klan continued to sit in front of the couch, staring at the pattern weaved into the upholstery. A few moments passed before she heard Cal's voice calling for her again. "Hey," he softly said, "I need you to let me out."

Klan snapped back to reality and slowly got up from her spot on the floor. "Sorry." She eventually opened the door, but it was easy to tell that she wasn't feeling quite right.

Outside, the rain was steadily pouring, but the clouds were showing signs of breaking up, due to the late afternoon sun peeking through the occasional crack in the sky. Cal walked forward a few steps and turned back to look at Klan, who was peering at him through the crack in the doorway. "You know my phone is always on. If you feel like talking to someone, you know that you can always call me."

"I know. Regardless of how many light-years are physically between us, I know that we'll always be friends."

Such kind and honest words from them both helped them let go of each other that moment. They traded smiles before Cal turned around to walk away. He heard the door close behind him before he took a few steps and stopped once more to look back. Knowing that he'd only see the door, he sighed and then decided to walk out from under the covered walkway and into the rain. Somehow, the feeling of the wet, cold rain would help to distract him from the sudden loneliness he was feeling at that very moment. Perhaps the raindrops would be able to cure his pain. The walk back to the gateway complex between the cities was not going to be terribly short, so there was plenty of time to cope with his thoughts and feelings on the way home.

Back inside of the apartment, Klan stood leaning forward against the wall near the door with her hand cushioning her head from the wall's hardness. There was absolutely nothing going through her mind; it was as if her thoughts had imploded upon themselves, leaving a void in their place. Somehow a slight feeling of remorse began to creep over her and her hand slowly reached to the knob before turning it and opening the door once more. She was surprised to see Cal still standing there, turning around to smile at her, as if he was reacting to the door opening. Unfortunately, his image faded from in front of her very own eyes, replaced only by the pattern of rain hitting the ground. Her mind was already playing tricks on her.

In a fit of disappointment, she closed the door, turned around to put her back against the door, and then slid down into a seated position. Disappointment quickly turned to frustration; frustration that she was letting herself become so affected by the moment. She violently rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands and groaned out loud. She then wrapped her arms around her knees and stared straight forward to focus on putting herself back together.

A few moments of complete silence passed before they were interrupted by the faint, muffled sound of a sniffle nearby. Klan raised her head before breaking her silence, "You can come out now, Nene."

It took awhile, but her door could then be heard unlatching and opening. She slowly walked around the corner and into Klan's view, wearing the saddest look on her face. Her eyes were shrinkwrapped with tears, ready to burst at any moment.

"Please don't start..." Klan calmly demanded. Unfortunately for her, she momentarily mistook her sister for someone without a heart.

…

Despite the rainy weather, thousands of people still stood strong near the gateway between Laplamiz and Frontier City. Their resolve didn't seem to take any kind of hits from the gloomy weather. Their steadfastness was rewarded with a break in the weather pattern, allowing them some sunlight to help dry off before it got colder in the evening.

Most of the attention was directed towards the main stage set up some ways away, where an emcee directed the event activities. While a few notable speakers were giving their speeches, a handful of reporters skulked amongst the crowd to interview the attendees.

"I'm just here to show my support for the movement. I'm excited to be here, along with so many other people who share my political views. I feel like we can accomplish so much when we all work together towards a common goal!" one attendee replied to the camera crew in front of him.

The reporter took back her microphone and looked around for another person to interview. Finding her next target, a man who stoically stood apart from the rest of the crowd with his arms folded, she approached him with zeal. "Sir!" she said to get his attention, "Can you tell us a little bit about yourself and why you've decided to brave the elements to be here?"

"Umm..." The plain-clothes man seemed to be apprehensive to answer, having been surprised by the camera crew.

"What's your name, Sir?"

"Cal."

"And why are you here today?"

Cal waited a moment before answering, but he finally spoke to her once more, "I'm gonna be honest with you... I happened to be walking by and thought I'd just watch for awhile to gauge the situation."

"So, do you know why everyone is gathered here today?"

"Yes, I saw you on the news earlier this morning. They're here to protest against the policies of the administration in the hopes of currying some major changes in the direction and leadership of the colony."

His response stroked her ego just a little bit. "Oh! So you must be a fan of the newscast? You sound like you're well-educated on the facts, then?"

Cal did his best to remain professional and courteous, but his earlier frustrations, coupled with the _very_ recent ones seemed to churn up inside of him until he finally boiled over, "No, actually... I'm not a big fan of your network at all."

The reporter then frowned, but saw this as an opportunity to convert one of the non-believers, or berate one of the heretics. "You're not? Well, I thought you were one of the smart ones!" she chided with a wry grin.

Obviously, Cal didn't find her joke to be funny. "I'm going to try to be as civil about this as possible, ma'am." He looked at many of the people who were beginning to gather around to spectate. "All of you people have every right to be out here to voice your opinions, I don't deny that. But what really irks me is that you're all here under false pretenses." Several people began to murmur to each other, while the camera continued to focus on Cal and the reporter. "You watch this network because you rely on them to feed you all of the information you want to know about everything related to politics, right? Well, have any of you bothered to actually go back and check to make sure that they're telling you _everything_? That what they're telling you is actually _fact_?"

"Wait, let me get this straight," the reporter said with skepticism on her face, "You are on live television, accusing a _major_ network of falsifying the facts and withholding opposing viewpoints?"

"Yes," Cal succinctly replied without hesitation.

The reporter turned back to the camera to wrap up the interview process, not allowing Cal to back up his claims, "There you have it, folks. Yet another naysayer who opposes the will of the people. That's what you see from the other side, a bunch of hot air and nothing to back up their claims. Back to you in the studio!"

Cal stood there, stunned that the reporter wouldn't even allow him the chance to convince anyone of his opinion. "Hey! You aren't even gonna let me defend my accusations?"

The reporter had already started to walk a couple of steps back towards their van, but she stopped for a moment to answer his question, "No. No one cares to hear what you have to say. You're a nobody with the intellect of an amoeba. These people only care about what they want to hear, and we give them what they want."

The nearby crowd, which had been murmuring amongst themselves up to this point, realized that there was something not right about the situation. "You never even let him finish!" one person yelled out.

Cal continued to follow the reporter and her cameraman before he finally started yelling at her. "_This_ is journalism?You call yourself a journalist? Sooner or later, these people are going to wise up to your propagandism and you'll find yourself scrambling to cover up all of the lies you report to them every day!"

The reporter then lost her patience and quickly turned around to charge back at Cal. She got into his face to defend her credibility in front of the crowd. "I get paid far more money than you to report the news as the people want it. Who are _you_ to tell me what I should and shouldn't say on television?"

Although he was quite offended by her statement, he began to wryly grin as he answered, "Well, Miss Reporter, I am a combat pilot and _my_ job is to go out there and fight for the freedoms that you so greatly enjoy in the safety of this colony. It's because of _me_ and my fellow soldiers that you are still able to say and do whatever you want. When was the last time _you_ risked your life for millions of other people whom you have never ever met in your life? I'm pissed off because I realize that I'm risking my life for someone like you, who doesn't care to report on the truth, and instead spreads lies that further your own political views. But you know what? Even though I know that fact, I will still go out there and fight for _you_, everyone here, and for the rights that you all enjoy. Just so you can go on living your life the way you choose." After finishing his statement, Cal found his finger jammed into her shoulder out of anger. He had been poking her every few seconds when he'd put an accent on the words he was saying.

The reporter found that she didn't have anything to say edgewise. It's hard to follow something like that when someone literally tells you that they fight for your safety, even though they don't even like you. She fumed in anger and turned around to storm back towards the news van parked nearby. Nary a word was said from that point as she got inside and drove away.

By then, many of the nearby attendees had witnessed the exchange and started to creep closer to Cal. Initially, it was hard to tell whether or not they were angry with him, or were interested in what he had to say. Regardless, he continued to point out the glaring proof of the reporter's ignorance. "See? How can you guys believe someone who can't stand up to the truth like that?" Cal said to the people as he pointed at the departing van.

One of the people spoke above the others, "Sir, although we may not agree on politics, I just want to say that we all appreciate what you do out there." Several other nearby people chimed in with agreement.

Cal sighed to release the rest of his anger so he could return his demeanor back to normal. "Look, I appreciate your gratitude. I just hope that you guys have learned something here. Don't just believe the first thing that someone tells you. Make sure that they're telling you the truth before you blindly follow them."

"Like what?" someone asked.

"Well, you guys seem to think that the Zentraedi are nothing but a drain on our resources and that they don't pull their weight. I can tell you that you're all wrong in thinking that. I serve with many fine examples of Zentraedi soldiers and they are all worth their weight in gold. Even the ones who have recently joined the colony are out there doing what they can to secure the system and reliable sources of raw materials with which we can use to build this colony. Who do you think grows your food? Raises your cattle? Constructs the buildings you live in?"

"What about the war?"

"I can't tell you much in detail, but I can say that we are fighting against a very dangerous enemy. One whose goal is to remove us as a threat to them, so that they can use the Vajra to take control of every living thing in this galaxy. You all saw the reports after we secured this planet to colonize. They will stop at _nothing_ to achieve their goal. That includes wiping us out!"

"They reported that the NUNS was making up the reports of conflict to continue getting funding from the government. Are you saying that this is false?"

"Yes! I've seen it with my own eyes! The threat is real!" Cal was continuously dumbfounded by the lack of real knowledge that these people had about the war effort and the assimilation of the Zentraedi fleet into the colony several months ago.

Before much more could be said, a small posse of imposing characters rushed up to Cal and started to push him away. "Get lost," they demanded.

Cal had already said what needed to be said. At that point, he was satisfied that he had made an impact on at least that small group of anti-administration protesters. "Remember!" he said as he slowly backed up, "Do your own homework! Don't be afraid to do the fact-checking yourself!"

The nearby crowd began to murmur amongst themselves again, now invigorated to actually debate the issue, rather than blindly agreeing with it. At least Cal was able to plant some seeds in their consciousnesses. Only time would tell if it would make a difference with them.

…

Somewhere on the outskirts of the city, a fairly well-wooded area had several paths cut through it and a hilltop was cleared away to make space for the structures built on top of it. A series of large pavilions had been built around an even larger main structure. Each pavilion served as a picnic area for large parties and about half of the pavilions were active with different gatherings of unrelated groups of people. The late-morning sun shone on the hilltop, shedding some much-needed warmth onto the area.

Much of the crew from the Macross Quarter had gathered in one of the pavilions, including the pilots of Skull Squadron. Many of them were gathered in their usual cliques, arranged according to their assigned duties while they were serving aboard the ship. While there were a lot of the crew attending, many of them had also brought their families and friends to enjoy the picnic. Even though it was still rather crisp and chilly outside, the pavilion was well-heated and comfortable enough for most everyone to shed their winter jackets in favor of regular clothing.

Finally getting the opportunity to spend some off-duty time with his new squadron, Commander Thompson seemed to linger near Ozma so that he could be formally introduced to everyone once more. Pilots and crew would occasionally come up to say hello again. After all, they hadn't seen him in the few weeks since they had returned to Aimo.

However, he wasn't the only one getting attention from the pilots and crew. As a matter of fact, a large collection of people had gathered in one corner to meet Ranka and Sheryl, who had come to the picnic with Alto. They did their best to greet their fans without making anyone feel left out. Slowly, but surely, the crowd around them had begun to dwindle as the occasional fan would leave, holding some personal belonging of theirs autographed by one or both songstresses.

Nearby, Alto stood in silence against the wall, holding a drink in his hand. He was soon greeted by one of the other pilots in the squadron.

"Hey, Saotome," Will hailed as he approached, holding his own drink, "How come you're not over there with your girlfriends?"

Alto didn't really like the fact that Will referred to them as his girlfriends, but he quickly realized that that's the way it seemed to everyone else. "I don't like being around all those people. Hell, they're not there to talk to me. I'd just look stupid standing there while everyone pays attention to them."

Will pointed at the group with his finger while holding his cup with the same hand. "What about your other friends? They don't seem to mind."

Brera, Nanase, and Luca were all sitting at the same table as Ranka and Sheryl, enjoying the crowd's company just as much as the two stars. They all shared the same sense of jubilation as each other and were even busily talking to some of the crew and pilots who had come to see Ranka and Sheryl.

Alto dropped his head a bit before looking back at Will, a bit upset that Will had pointed out that which he didn't even bother to see for himself. He clicked his tongue and started to walk away and towards the crowd of people in the corner. "Fine. It's just that I would rather enjoy the picnic as a normal person, you know?"

Will didn't even answer and let Alto walk away before he returned back to his own seat. He grabbed a couple of food items off of the table, which held everyone's homemade dishes. Looking back to where Nene was sitting, he noticed some unknown guy excitedly talking to her. He gritted his teeth as he hurriedly walked over to their table.

As Will approached, Nene noticed him coming and stopped herself midsentence to introduce them to each other. "Oh! Here he comes! Will, this is Ensign Scholtz. He's going to be our replacement fourth pilot!"

"The name's 'Thad'," he said as he stood up and put his hand out to shake Will's hand. Will looked at it for a moment before returning the gesture. "Nice to meet you," Thad said out of courtesy.

"Same," Will curtly replied.

"He's the guy that we decided to recruit before the big battle a few weeks ago. He just got back to Aimo this morning," Nene declared.

"Oh! Well, I'm sure you're glad to be on leave after so long, huh?"

"Yeah, but I'm more excited to be serving in the prestigious Skull Squadron. I've heard a lot about the Pixie Team," he said with a slight laugh, "Not the most intimidating of names, but you guys have made a bit of a reputation for yourselves in the fleet."

Both Nene and Will perked up upon hearing that they were a bit famous. "Really?"

"Yeah! You guys were running up the kills as a team and the rumor was that you guys always managed to get yourselves into combat with every patrol while you were out there." Thad looked at Will with a bit of admiration. "It's such an honor to meet you!"

"It is?" Will was not sure why Thad would hold him in such high regard, but he decided to take it in stride.

"Yeah! I have never seen someone fly an RVF so effectively in combat! When I got back to my ship after that sortie, I told my story to some of the pilots and they already knew about you. They said that Pixie Team had the best RVF pilot in the fleet!"

Will had quickly changed his facial expression to frustration and disappointment. "Whoa, whoa... That's not me."

"It's not?"

"No, I fly a 25-G; I'm a sniper. You're talking about Cal Wagner."

"Oh... yeah, 'Wagner'!" Thad was embarrassed about the situation and proceeded to apologize for the mix-up. "I'm so sorry! Ha ha... I just got ahead of myself there." He then started to look around for Cal. "Where is he? Is he here today?"

Will sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. Nene couldn't help but laugh at the situation. Seeing Will get excited about being some kind of notorious pilot, only to be horribly let down by the realization that it was Cal that Thad was talking about... it was quite humbling for him. "He's outside near the grill. Come on, I'll introduce you to him," he grumbled.

"Just try not to stroke his ego too much, okay?" Nene chimed in as she followed closely behind, carrying her camera by its strap in her hand.

Just outside of the pavilion, Cal toiled away at the huge grill in front of him. Utilizing his experience at working over an open fire, he seemed to be right at home cooking up the hot food for everyone to eat. He wore an apron over his clothes, along with a pair of safety goggles to protect his eyes from the large plumes of smoke billowing up from the grill. On one side, he had a steady supply of uncooked hamburger patties, hotdogs, bratwursts, chicken breasts, and other various grill-worthy items. There was even a small baggie full of hot peppers, some of which were already on the grill. On the other side sat a couple of large platters to hold the finished food. Partygoers would approach and partake of his labors, helping themselves to whatever they could and making requests for things that weren't available at the time.

As Will, Nene, and Thad approached, he had both of his earbuds in while he listened to the music playing from his new phone. A steady, rhythmic nod showed that he was closely following the beat of whatever it was that he was listening to.

"Cal," Will called out to him. Unfortunately, he didn't respond to Will and instead turned away to get something out of the nearby cooler. "Cal!" Will yelled again, now stopped almost 2 feet away. Cal turned back towards them, surprised to see that he now had company. Nene quietly remained in the background, using this opportunity to get some candid photos with her camera.

A smile creased across his lips and he reached up with one hand to pop an earbud out of his ear. The music now became fairly audible, even to the three people standing next to him. He definitely had the volume up beyond safe listening levels. "Oh, hey there!" he happily greeted.

Will wore a slightly disgusted look on his face as he finally introduced Thad to Cal. He certainly didn't like the music that he was hearing, since it was no more than a cacophony to him. "Ugh..." he recoiled as he looked at the now-hanging earbud, then back to Cal, "This is Thad... Scholtz, was it?"

Thad nodded and shook Cal's hand with enthusiasm. "Wow..." he seemed short on breath, for some reason, "It's gonna great to fly alongside you again."

The sous chef didn't quite understand the reason for such enthusiasm. "Pardon?"

"I was the guy you flew with several weeks ago on a sortie." Cal still wore a blank look on his face as Thad tried to jog his memory, "I saw you fight that big, red mecha-drone hand-to-hand, when you could have just finished it off with your gunpod."

"Oh! Yeah... I remember you now. So, I take it you're here because you're our new fourth pilot?"

"Yup! I'm really going to like flying in this squadron. Do you think you can show me a few pointers when you get the chance?" Thad continued to pour it on.

Nene, refusing to hear any more of the inane babble, decided to take her leave and faked a loud yawn, "Well, I'm not going to contribute to this ego-stroking session. I'm going to leave you boys alone so you can keep on kissing Cal's butt. I think every other person at this picnic has something more interesting to talk about..." She didn't even bother to stick around for any witty retorts and quickly disappeared back into the warm pavilion.

"Don't worry," Cal said, "She's always trying to keep my ego in check. So, did you want a burger or something...?" He offered up a finished patty, fresh off of the grill for either Will or Thad to accept. However, they seemed to be looking past him at someone else.

"If they don't want it, I'll take it," another voice sounded from behind. Cal turned around to see Captain Wilder standing there with an open bun on his plate. However, Cal was momentarily distracted by the Captain's civilian clothing. He wore a bright orange shirt with a Hawaiian-inspired print, a huge straw hat, baggy cargo shorts, and sandals.

"Hey, Captain! Nice threads!" Cal greeted. It was already strange enough to see their ship's captain dressed like he's been lying on a beach somewhere, sipping a piña colada from a hollowed-out pineapple with a paper umbrella sticking out of the top. What really drove the point home was that everyone else at the picnic was dressed for cold weather. It was about 45 degrees Fahrenheit outside at the time.

"Thanks. Now, about that burger..." Captain Wilder had his gaze fixed on the patty, but Cal put it back onto the grill.

"No, not this one. I've been saving one especially for you, Sir." He scooped a much larger patty off of the grill and placed it onto the bottom half of the bun. Before Captain Wilder could walk away, Cal stopped him again. "Wait, you're gonna need something to wash that down." He kicked the cooler door open and pulled a bottle of beer from the ice cubes packed inside. A quick twist of the cap and Cal handed the Captain a fresh, opened drink.

"Thanks, Wagner. Good show," he said, holding up the bottle near his head and using a couple of fingers to give a casual salute.

Cal returned the casual salute with one of his own, nowhere near the required courtesy while he's on duty. He turned back towards Will and Thad, who had stayed quiet for the last minute. "What?"

"You're such a kiss-ass," Will declared.

"Hey, I'm just serving customers, here. Were you guys gonna get a burger or what? Yours come with complimentary beer, too!" Cal replied as he reached into the cooler to pull out some more beverages for his wingmen.

"That's more like it!" Will said as he snatched a bottle from Cal.

Thad looked back at the pavilion, where Captain Wilder had gone. "That was the Captain?" He seemed to be extremely surprised at what he had just seen.

No answer came from neither Cal nor Will. Instead, Will shoved a plate with a burger into Thad's abdomen. "Come on. I'll introduce you to the rest of the pilots and crew." They left Cal alone at the grill, so he could get back to work.

Back inside of the pavilion, Ozma had to remark to Captain Wilder about his appearance, "What, are you in denial? It's cold out there!"

He shrugged with nonchalance as he took a seat next to Monica at one of the tables. Instead, she spoke on his behalf, "That's how he always dresses when he's off-duty, don't you know that? He wouldn't listen to me when I told him that he should wear something warmer today, though. To his defense, the guy is like a living furnace. You could roast a marshmallow off of him, if you wanted to."

"I guess that explains the clothes..." Ozma remarked before taking a sip of his drink.

Back outside, Cal had already re-immersed himself into his world of cooking over an open fire and listening to extremely loud music through his earbuds. But just because he was doing all of the grilling by himself, it didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy some samples of his own work. There was also a reason that he had kept a stocked cooler next to him: easy, convenient access to cold beverages... most of which were alcoholic by nature. There was always an open bottle sitting on the small table to his side, well within reach, should he require something with which to slake his thirst. After taking an oversized bite of his sandwich, Cal immediately followed it up with a swig. Upon placing the bottle back onto the table, he realized that someone had been standing next to the table for some unknown time, surprising him enough to make him swallow too much food and beer at one time.

Cal pounded his chest to help the food go down and tried to speak, but his voice was still raspy, "Klan!" He had to clear his throat a couple of times to speak again. "What are you doing here? I had no idea you were going to show up!" He popped the earbuds out of his ears by tugging on their cord from below.

She wore a bit of an indifferent look on her face, probably not knowing how to present herself at the time. Unlike Captain Wilder, she was more aptly dressed for the season. She wore simple jeans and a plainly-colored black sweatshirt, but it was a few sizes too large for her miclone form. She had the sleeves bunched up above her elbow to compensate for their excessive length. She carried a red plastic drinking cup, full of some unknown beverage. "Yeah, I didn't know I was coming either, until Ozma called me and made me promise to come."

"Oh." Cal's reply was quite curt and he quickly turned his attention to the food still cooking on the grill at the time. He flipped a couple of patties, filling their conversation with an awkward silence, since Klan didn't really know what to say or how to take his seeming nonchalance. He did make an effort at small talk after a few moments, though. "How are you doing?"

Such a cliché question seemed to irk her just a bit, but it was probably best to just play along for now. "Fine. I guess. Could be better, but doing okay. You?"

"Oh, getting by... you know how it goes..." Another pause in the conversation added to their level of discomfort. Cal flipped another couple of patties, creating temporarily loud sizzling sounds from the grease igniting the fire below the grating. "So, did you want a burger or something...?"

Klan suspected that he was trying to get rid of her so he didn't have to talk to her. "Do I look like I need a reason to come and talk to you?"

"No, you pretty much just do whatever you want. Seems that, for you, having a good reason isn't a requirement to do... or _not_ do something." Cal has a way of making his point without actually saying it.

A sharp verbal barb was the last thing that Klan wanted to get from Cal, even though it was cleverly disguised as a harmless comment. "Stop it, Cal. You're not being very nice."

Cal, who wasn't even looking at her, put down his cooking utensils with a "clack" sound. He sighed as he turned to look at her, "Sorry. I'm just trying to move on, but it's not that easy."

"I know... tell me about it..." Obviously, she didn't actually want him to tell her about it; turns of phrase always have ironic literal meanings, not intended to be understood as such. "Why are you acting like this, anyway? I thought you said that my decision wouldn't bother you that much."

"...as long as you were honest with me and with yourself." Cal had to finish the sentence for her. The tone of his voice reflected his continuing frustration. "I'm sorry, but I didn't really think you were saying what was on your heart at the time, Klan. I won't bother you about it anymore, though."

She thought about things for a few moments before she attempted to reconcile things with him, "Cal, I-" She stopped mid-sentence and appeared to be looking behind Cal.

Before he could turn around, he felt someone squeeze both sides of his abdomen from behind. A feminine voice yelled out to scare him, "Aaaah!"

Cal couldn't help but react by arching his body backwards and jumping forward, almost causing him to slam into the barbecue grill. He felt his heart racing in his chest as he turned around to identify his assailant. "Damn you, Jen!" he said with a laugh, "You almost made me burn myself!" He then reached backwards and put his arm around her to give her a hug.

She returned the gesture in kind, giggling in a playful way. She noticed Klan standing a few feet away and greeted her, "Hi, Commander! I didn't know you were going to be here today! How's the new post working out?" Jen hadn't really talked with Klan much on a personal basis, and basically only knew her from when she had to direct the aerospace traffic around the Quarter while they were on deployment duty.

Klan was initially shocked upon seeing Cal and Jen's candid greeting with each other. She had been gritting her teeth out of reflex, but put on a more cheerful facade to reply to Jen. "It's doing just fine, Lieutenant." Even though it was a quick answer, it was pretty difficult to say without succumbing to her real internal response. She suddenly felt the plastic cup in her hands buckle from the added pressure from her clenching hand.

After hanging onto Cal for a few moments, Jen stood up next to him under her own power. "So, how did it go yesterday?"

Cal's mind raced for a moment as he tried to figure out what it was that she was talking about. He suddenly realized it and tried to fight off the sudden feeling of discomfort, since he was standing next to Klan. "Oh, I'll tell you a bit later," he replied with a bit of hesitation. He tilted his head in the direction of the food cooking on the grill, "I'm almost done here. I'll join you when I finish, okay?"

Jen nodded and began to walk away towards the pavilion. "It's good to see you again, Commander!" she cheerfully shouted.

Klan struggled to smile in response, before turning her attention back to Cal. She looked downwards towards her slightly-deformed cup and tried to pop the plastic back into its original cylindrical shape. Following a sigh, she broke the uncomfortable silence, "I guess I'll take one of those burgers."

Cal had been feeling some moisture building up around his shirt collar under his sweater, even though it was fairly chilly outside. He felt relieved when he saw that Klan wasn't going to inquire about what Jen had asked. "Sure! Here ya go." He nonchalantly scooped a fresh patty onto a bun and put it on a plate for her. He couldn't help but notice that she kind of snatched the plate out of his hands, instead of gently accepting it from him.

"Thanks. See ya," she curtly replied and walked away. A slight sense of guilt suddenly overcame her after a few steps and she stopped walking. She sighed and turned back to Cal, who was now a few yards away. "Cal." She waited for him to look back at her. "I'm sorry..."

Cal nodded his head and smiled, almost as if he thought the situation was funny to him. "Yeah, me too." He looked at her for a moment and then turned his attention back to the grill.

His reaction was cryptic, to say the least. Klan tried hard not to read too far into it, but his response seemed to carry a tone of resentment. She decided not to pursue the matter any further and quickly stormed away into the pavilion.

It didn't take Klan very long to find her sister sitting alone at one of the tables, who was reviewing some of the photos she had taken with her camera. She took a spot next to her sister, opposite of what she presumed was Will's seat, since there was a plate of half-eaten food there. Her plate made a bit of a racket from being carelessly dropped onto the table. The hamburger momentarily jumped into the air, with the bun separating from the patty before settling back onto the plate intact.

"Hey, you made it!" Nene declared. "I thought you weren't gonna come."

"I'm only here because Ozma insisted." She made it abundantly clear that she was not enjoying herself by her posture. She propped her head up on the table with one hand, while using the other to lift the sandwich to her mouth. "Where's your worse-half?" she asked with biting sarcasm.

"You mean Will, right? What's with your contempt of the male gender right now?"

"Let's just say that I'm not terribly happy with any particular specimen at this point in time." She took a bite and begrudgingly chewed on it for a moment. She couldn't help but notice that it actually tasted pretty good.

"Why are you upset at him? You made the decision."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about him being a jerk right now..."

"What did he say?"

Klan sighed and paused for a moment. "He just _is_. I don't really wanna talk about it."

"Oh-kayy... Well, anyway, Will's introducing our new wingman to the squadron. We _finally _got a replacement for-" Nene noticed that Klan wasn't really paying attention anymore. She could see that her sister was looking out of the corner of her eye outside. Something seemed to have caught her attention. Yet another female was initiating a conversation with Cal near the grill.

"Hey! Glad you could make it!" Cal said to Ranka, who was waiting for him to place a piece of grilled chicken onto her plate. "He finally managed to ask you?"

"Yeah, I had to twist his arm, though. Shoot, even Sheryl didn't know anything about this picnic until I mentioned it to him in front of her. Sometimes, I wonder what goes through his head. It's as if he is either too shy, or just disinterested."

"If only he was aggressive with you guys as he is when he's flying. He can be reckless on the stick, but he always gets the job done. Perhaps he just doesn't want to hurt either of you two."

"Who knows...?"

Just then, Luca approached from behind Ranka with a plate in one hand, and Nanase's hand in the other. "Cal! I want you to meet my girlfriend. This is Nanase."

"No way, Luca!" Cal exclaimed in surprise, "How did you manage to win the heart of this gorgeous young woman?" Surely, he was embellishing a bit, out of a gesture of friendliness towards them both.

"I have no idea..." Luca grinned at Nanase, shrugging with nonchalance. It was obvious he felt privileged to be at her side.

"Oh, stop, you two," she replied with a laugh. She then put her hand forward to greet Cal, "Luca's had some good things to say about you. It's nice to meet you!"

"Likewise!" Cal exclaimed. Instead of a casual shake, he took her hand in his and playfully bent forward to kiss her hand.

Inside of the pavilion, Nene was alerted to a loud "snap" sound from next to her. She turned to see what the cause of the noise was and saw that Klan had broken her plastic fork; both halves were still tucked under her thumb in her hand, but the handle had taken on an unnatural ninety-degree angle. Nene could see that Klan's attention was focused on the goings-on outside near the grill. "Something the matter?" she asked of her sister.

"No!" Klan replied with a pout. She picked up her plastic _spoon_ and dug into the potato salad which she had been eating. One of the crew members walked by with a cocktail in their hand and Klan suddenly became interested in its origins. "I could use one of those. Who's mixing drinks?"

"Take a wild guess," Nene replied while nodding her head in the direction of the distant drink bar. Bobby could be seen enthusiastically using a cocktail shaker behind the bar.

Looking into her now-seemingly cheap plastic cup, she put it back on the table and got up from her seat. "I'll be right back..."

"Klan!" Nene exclaimed to momentarily stop her sister from walking away, "Be careful, now. Remember what happened the last time you had some drinks?" She wore a mischievous grin, obviously trying to goad her sister into a reaction. With a scoff, Klan stayed silent and walked away towards the drink bar.

Finally satisfied with his work for the time being, Cal put together a small plate of snack foods and joined Jen at her table. "Hello, ladies..." he casually greeted as he sat down. The rest of the bridge bunnies sat at the table; even Commander Choi decided to mingle with her subordinates.

They seemed to be waiting in anticipation for him to join them. "So, tell us all about it!" Jen said, "How did it go yesterday? Did you get the answer you were looking for?" She stared into his eyes with a smile. She leaned forward towards Cal, propping her chin up on the table with her hand.

He was noticeably uncomfortable talking about something so personal in front of a bunch of women. The fact that they were waiting with bated breath made it even more uncomfortable. He casually chomped down on a potato chip and answered the question, "No, we just decided to stay friends."

Several tongue clicks sounded almost simultaneously. "Oh, that's too bad!" Mena said.

Jen continued to stare into his eyes. Her intentions were pretty clear, but she asked the question anyway, "So, who was it? I'm _dying_ to know!" Several of the girls chimed in to agree.

He shook his head as he answered, "Not gonna tell you... Well, maybe some day. Just not now."

"Aw, what a tease. I'll get it out of you soon," Jen said in a playful tone. She tugged at his arm to let him know she was still somewhat serious. "I mean it!"

Commander Choi, being far more experienced at life than everyone else sitting at that table, weighed in her opinion. "Oh, you're still young. There's plenty of time left for you to find someone special to you."

"Well, it's better to have loved and lost... you know how it goes," Cal casually replied with a shrug.

"You and I share that in common. My husband died a few years ago, but our many years together were nothing short of marvelous. I heard about your fiancee. It just pains me to hear that such young love never had the chance to truly come to fruition. You'll find someone soon, I'm sure." Commander Choi's mood had turned the atmosphere a bit somber. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hijack the conversation and make it all gloomy like that," she said with a laugh and a smile.

"Yeah! Don't worry, Cal," Mena said, "If I wasn't already married, I might be tempted..." The bindi on her forehead told of her relationship status.

He laughed at her attempt to make him feel better. "Well, do you have any unmarried sisters that might be tempted?"

"No, she doesn't," Lam replied for her. "All of the young women in her family have already been betrothed. So, you missed out. However, not all of the women in _my_ family are taken yet."

"But you don't _have_any sisters!" Monica chimed in.

"I know!" Lam playfully grabbed Cal's arm and tugged him closer to her.

Jen wasn't going to have any of it. "Oh, no... I don't think you'd get along with Cal _that_ well. You already have a boyfriend, anyway!" She pulled him back towards herself with his other arm.

"So do you! What's it to you?" Lam continued to playfully banter with Jen.

Cal simply sat in his seat and allowed himself to be tugged in whatever direction the girls decided for him. He struggled to put a bite of food in his mouth, since his head was going wherever his shoulders would go. After several seconds of holding a chip in front of his face, he finally bit down on it and began to chew. His eyes wandered upwards from the table and into the distance, where he could see Klan sitting at the bar in the distance. Her gaze was fixed upon him and she didn't seem to approve of what she was seeing.

Bobby's voice repeated a couple of times from behind her, "Klan. Klan!"

She jerked as she turned around to respond to him. "What?"

"Your drink is ready."

"Oh... Thanks." She picked it up and didn't even bother to look at its appearance before downing the whole thing without putting it down. She kept her gaze on the table where Cal was sitting, trying to make out what they were saying. From her distance, it was all just a bunch of hens clucking at each other, though.

Bobby felt a little under-appreciated for the hard work he had put into creating the drink for her. "I was kind of hoping that you'd enjoy that a little more."

"I'm sorry, Bobby. It _was_ good. Can I have another one?" Klan had turned to look him in the eye when she asked. Seeing that he was going to fill her request, she grabbed some assorted shelled nuts from the basket nearby. There was a nutcracker sitting in a holster next to the basket, but she didn't bother to pick it up to use it.

"There's a nutcracker here―" Bobby's sentence was interrupted by the loud crack of the shell breaking in her hand. "Nevermind..."

Even the mighty walnut was no match for her dexterity. She nervously fidgeted with the shells as she dug the softer nuts out and ate them. All the while, her gaze remained on the same thing as before. It seemed as though she was taking out some excess aggression on the hard-shelled nuts.

Will and Thad finally finished making their rounds and re-joined Nene at her table. "Whose plate and cup is that?" Will asked. He then noticed the letters "K.K." written in black marker on the cup. "Oh, nevermind. Your sister is here?" he asked as he looked around.

Thad seemed to perk up at the mention of another woman sitting at their table. "Sister? You have a sister in the squadron?"

"Yeah. Well, no... She _was_ in the squadron. She used to be the squadron XO and our team leader until she got promoted. She's serving on another ship now." Nene noticed that Thad was starting to get a certain glimmer in his eyes. "She's not your type, so don't even think about asking."

"Aw, how can you say that? You barely even know me!"

"Just trust me on this one," Nene replied, "She's not easy to get along with."

"What's her name?"

Nene sighed out of frustration, but answered anyway, "Klan Klang."

He put his finger on his chin to indicate that he was thinking about something. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"Does the nickname 'Nephilim' ring a bell?"

"Oh!" Thad reeled back a bit in surprise, "That's your sister? I thought your last name was Rora."

"She's my half-sister."

"Ah, makes sense," Thad shrugged. "Yeah, maybe you were right, then..."

Like clockwork, Klan appeared from within a crowd of people, carrying what looked like a lowball glass of rum and soda. She sat down at her seat and only looked at Thad for a split second before digging into her food.

"That's your sister?" Thad asked. Klan looked up from her food to give him her infamous stare. He flinched a bit, as if someone had splashed him in the face with some water.

"Yep!"

"But she's just a kid, how can she outrank us all?" Thad, like everyone else who meets Klan for the first time, had several questions to ask about her appearance as a miclone.

She couldn't help but forcibly exhale out of frustration. Instead of dignifying his question with an answer, she took another bite of food and tried very hard not to jump across the table to lay down the "rules".

Will interjected to avoid any kind of violent confrontation between her and the grossly uninformed, "That's just how she looks when she's in her miclone form," he said in a quiet tone of voice, "She has some kind of genetic abnormality that causes her to take on a child-like form of herself."

"Ah..." Thad replied with a smile, "I just expected something a little more intimidating than a little girl." He playfully laughed, thinking that he was going to be cute about it.

Having heard enough of Thad's jokes, Klan shot up from her seat, slammed her hands on the table-top, and lunged in his direction. Her cheeks were swollen with food, but she began to burn a hole in his face with her frightening glare.

Thad immediately understood the nature of the stories he'd heard about her. He reacted by leaning back in his chair and partially put his arm up as if he was going to block an incoming attack from the diminutive girl sitting across from him.

Fortunately for him, Klan didn't do much more; she didn't have to. Having asserted the intimidation factor of her true nature, she sat down with a satisfied aura.

Will and Nene laughed at the situation, leaving Thad in a slightly mortified state. "Holy crap... never judge a book by its cover..." he mumbled just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear.

"Damn straight. Don't forget those words of wisdom, either," Klan replied, staring off into the distance. "I should probably just not bother to miclone myself anymore. It's not like I now have any reason to do so..."

Cutting the tension with a knife, Cal came out of nowhere and stood next to Klan. He plopped his plate down onto the table, but he seemed to be in good spirits. "Hey, guys."

"Finally decided to join your wingmates, huh?" Will chided.

"Yeah, I was busy cooking your food for you, in case you forgot!" Cal pointed at Will's half-eaten hotdog on his plate.

Will smiled at Cal's response. He knew he was just kidding and reached around Nene's back, holding his fist up in the air. Cal, who was still standing, returned the gesture and bumped his fist against Will's.

"Is that some kind of squadron greeting?" Thad asked.

"No," Nene replied, "That's just something the two of them do. Some of the pilots have started calling them the 'Bash Brothers' because of it."

While Nene continued to answer Thad's questions, Cal sat down and leaned inward towards Klan. She was still eating and pretending that nobody else existed around her. "Hey," he said in a hushed voice, "Umm... I'm sorry about earlier."

Klan stopped chewing for a moment and cleared space in her mouth to speak, "Oh yeah? Sorry for what?" She was looking at him from the corner of her eyes and started to chew again.

"I was being kind of a jerk to you earlier. You looked pretty upset when you left and I suspected that I went a little too far in what I said."

"So... you aren't really sure if that's why I'm upset?"

Cal grunted at her question, but answered after a slight hesitation, "Well, I _thought_ that's what was upsetting you... but it doesn't matter anyway. I just wanted to make sure that you don't think that I don't care."

"You're apologizing for something that you're not even sure is your fault? That's not really like you. You're too stubborn to admit when you're wrong about something."

Suddenly, Cal found himself getting a little upset. "Is it _really_ that much of a surprise to you? Maybe you missed the part where I made it abundantly clear that you were important to me." He stopped for a moment as he realized that his voice was starting to increase in volume. Both of them had their heads fairly close to each other to keep their conversation on the down-low. Everyone else at the table was still busily chatting with each other, and the dull roar from other people's conversations in the pavilion helped to drown out the private conversation. "We may not be 'together', but you'll find that I still put a lot of value into you as a friend. I don't want to let a little disagreement come between us, okay?"

The immediate vicinity had become quiet, for some reason. They looked up to see that the other three pilots at the table were watching them have their little conversation with each other.

"Everything alright?" Nene asked.

Klan straightened her posture out and closed her eyes while Cal answered, "Just fine. We were just clearing up a little miscommunication."

The sound of a sharp whistle cut through the air before anyone at the table could ask for details. Ozma was standing on one of the tables near one of the entrances to the pavilion. "Alright, listen up!" He waited for most of the crowd to grow silent before continuing. "Did everyone get enough to eat?"

"Yeah!" everyone answered.

"I just want to say 'thanks' to everyone who brought food with them; everything was delicious! Well, everything that I could make room for..." The crowd agreed and some laughed at Ozma's offhand comment. "So, thanks to you all for your great dishes. Also, let's not forget the great job Bobby did serving mixed drinks for those of us who have no idea how to make them!" Bobby put his arm in front of his waist and politely bowed as everyone turned their attention towards him. He couldn't help but blush a bit, since he was getting a compliment from someone for whom he had feelings. Ozma, still uninformed about Bobby's crush on him, continued giving props, "Lieutenant Wagner also did a great job slaving over a hot grill to make sure we all had our share of freshly cooked meats. It wouldn't be a picnic without grilled food! Where is he?" He looked around to find Cal, and saw him waving from his seat a few tables away.

A couple of the crew members at the table next to them leaned towards Cal to personally chime in their approval, "My compliments to the chef!"

"I told you my boy could grill!" Will remarked as Cal thanked the crew members for their words.

Ozma finished acknowledging everyone's efforts to make the picnic happen and moved on to his next agenda item. "Okay, now for a something a little more fun! In case any you hadn't noticed, this is a paintball park... We rented out one of their woodsball courses for our own personal use this afternoon and I'm expecting an epic battle for bragging rights on the ship: my squadron versus a team comprised of some of the ship's crew. If anyone else wants to participate, feel free to join in. Family and friends are welcome!" The crowd began to chatter with each other upon hearing his announcement.

Captain Wilder, who was seated near Ozma, stood up to speak to everyone. "Commander Lee has a bottle of 18-year-old scotch that says that his pilots will come out the victors. I'm willing to bet that the ship's crew has something to say about that!" he said with a wry grin. He looked over the crowd of familiar faces, those whom he has worked with on a personal basis during his tenure as the ship's captain. As was expected, a portion of the crowd cheered, while the other jeered in response.

Ozma laughed from Captain Wilder's words and the crowd's reaction. "Alright then, it's settled." He pointed at a group of park employees standing nearby. "If you're interested in participating, these guys will show you everything you need to know about the equipment we'll be using. Once we've started the match, those of you who are tagged out can return to the pavilion. We'll have monitors set up with camera feeds so you can cheer your team on from the sidelines. Don't go anywhere, either. When the match is over, we'll have a bit of a parting ceremony to do. We have some awards and recognition to give out to various crew members and pilots, plus several _extremely_ important announcements to make." He stopped for a moment to let the words sink in. "Okay! Have fun, everybody!"

While many of the picnic attendees began to bustle in preparation for the upcoming event, the members of Pixie Team felt the call of "duty" and started to get up from their seats. However, Klan firmly remained in her seat.

"Are you coming?" Cal asked.

"No, you guys go ahead. I'm not a member of the crew or squadron anymore."

"Oh, come on," Nene whined, "You heard Ozma. Friends and family can participate too! Besides, we still consider you to be one of us."

"I'll be okay. Thanks, though."

Cal, Will, and Nene clicked their tongues as they walked away with Thad following closely behind them. They got into line to wait for their turn to get their equipment.

About half an hour passed and Klan had really started to enjoy the relative quietness alone at the table. She was batting around some thoughts in her mind when she heard someone approach her from behind.

"Penny for your thoughts," Bobby said as he leaned up against a structural support beam nearby. He was already decked out in equipment and was waiting for everyone else to finish getting ready.

Klan turned around to see who it was and then turned forward again with a chuckle. "Nothing. Just enjoying the peace and quiet while I can."

Bobby laughed. Whether he was laughing at her or with her, was something of a mystery at a glance. "I know I haven't really seen you in a few weeks, but I still know when something's not right. You don't seem yourself today. You know I _have_ to ask, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I don't think you can help, though."

"Oh, a challenge! Try me. You might be surprised." Klan stayed silent and managed to crack a smile. "You're going to make me guess, huh?" Bobby put his hand up to his chin and looked at the ground. "Judging from your behavior at the bar earlier, does it have something to do with Lieutenant Wagner? Do you miss your pilots that badly?"

Klan initially reacted in surprise, but then realized that Bobby has always been rather perceptive of what goes on around him. "I do miss them. I miss all of you, to be honest." Her eyes wandered over the crowd outside until she saw Cal standing around in his gear, casually talking to Jen again. The two of them were somewhat secluded from the rest of the participants, though. "Bobby," Klan said as she started to firmly tap her fingers on the table, "I do have something that you might be able to help with, now that I think about it."

"What's that?"

She motioned in the direction in which Cal and Jen were standing. "What's the deal with those two? They seem to know each other pretty well and appear to be pretty close."

Bobby raised his eyebrow with intrigue. He smiled and exhaled as he answered, "You don't know?" She looked up at him with dreaded anticipation. "They met each other right before we deployed into space a few months ago." He laughed as he moved to the next sentence, "I won't go into any details, but let's just say that they spent the night together, since they figured that they wouldn't see each other again. Pretty romantic, huh?"

"He did **what**?" her head spun around to look at him.

Bobby could see that there was a fire raging behind her eyes. "They slept together several months ago. What's the big deal?"

A horrible sound began to emanate from the table near Klan's hand. Bobby looked down and saw that she was carving several grooves into the durable plastic tabletop with her fingernails. The greyish material was being lifted by her fingers and began to curl up into her palm. She didn't even flinch; she just continued to glare out at the two friends talking to each other outside.

A moment of clarity overcame Bobby and his face reflected his enlightenment. "Oh. My. God. Now I know what all this is about. You're jealous!"

She quickly spun her head around and shot him an angry look. "Bobby!"

He put his hands up in front of his chest to show that he was defenseless. A moment of silence passed by. "I don't hear you disagreeing with me." She turned away to look outside and began to sip on her lowball glass, holding it in her hand when she wasn't drinking from it.

Cal and Jen were unaware that anyone in particular was watching them as they stood around the corner from most of the crowd. "Where's Commander Ortiz, anyway? I haven't seen him here yet," Cal asked of Jen.

"I don't know," she said as she looked at her watch, "He said he was going to be late, but I didn't think he'd be _this_ late. I should probably call him to make sure he isn't lost or got hung up somewhere."

"So, I take it you guys are doing okay now?"

"Yeah. He was really apologetic after our little fight. It seems that he can admit that he's a bit jealous when it comes to seeing me interacting with other men... especially you, considering our past 'adventures' together." Jen giggled a little bit at her remark.

"'Adventures', huh?" Cal said with a smile. "Well, I just hope that he isn't going to intentionally be bringing any kinds of shitstorms down on me because of it."

"No, I made him promise to behave when he's around you. You won't have to worry about him, okay?" she said balling her hand up in a fist. She grinned with an evil look on her face. She then cleared her demeanor and moved on to another important subject to her. "Look, I know you don't want to tell me about who it is that's caught your attention, but I'm sorry that it didn't work out for you. She doesn't know what she's missing out on."

"Aw, Jen, don't start with that..." Cal said while rolling his eyes.

"I'm serious! For what it's worth, you've been a really great friend to me and I can only imagine how it would have been if we'd been something more than that. I'm glad that we can keep things platonic, though. I'd like to see you find happiness sometime soon. Just know that I'm always in your corner when you need me and I appreciate how you're there for me when I need someone to talk to. Thanks." She coyly approached Cal and hugged him. She managed to sneak a friendly kiss onto his cheek before letting him go and walking away. He just watched her leave with a smile on his face.

Bobby, who had seen the exchange had just started to laugh to himself when he heard the sound of glass shattering nearby. Klan's lowball glass was now a garbled pile of razor-sharp shards lying on the table. Her hand was still holding what remained of the base.

"Oh my gosh! Are you okay?" he said as he reached over to inspect her hand for any cuts. "How the hell did you not cut yourself?"

"Alright, that's it. I've seen enough. If you'll excuse me, I need to wash up and go take care of some business elsewhere." She tugged at her hand after standing up. "Oh, and by the way... if you tell _anyone_ about this conversation, I will hunt you down and take to that hair of yours with an electric razor."

Bobby nervously laughed and let go of her hand. Inside of his mind, he was still shocked that she hadn't sliced it open on any of the shards after the glass had spontaneously exploded in her hand. ...or was it spontaneous? He pointed towards the building next to where Cal was standing. "The bathroom's that way!" he hollered at her when he saw that she was walking in the opposite direction.

Once everyone was suited up and ready to go, one of the park employees spoke to the crowd over a bullhorn. "Alright, if I can have everyone's attention!" Most of the chatter quieted down and all eyes were upon him as he continued, "This is going to be a capture-the-flag match." A map of the course displayed on the large monitor to above him. "Somewhere in this area, the flag will be randomly dropped by one of our remote drones," he said as he circled an area at the center of the map with his laser pointer. "The object is to grab that flag and return it to the _enemy's_ base, not your own! The match is over when the flag has been captured, or when all of the members of one team have been tagged. You'll find many man-made obstacles and buildings littered all over the map. Feel free to use them to your advantage. Trees will be abundant and can be used as cover, if you so choose... that's why it's called 'woodsball'."

Another employee took over for him and began to explain the functionality of the equipment. "All of you have the same basic equipment, but there are a couple of exceptions. While most of you have a standard, semi-automatic paintball marker, each team has a pair of snipers equipped with a bolt-action rifle and a rudimentary ghillie suit for camouflage. These rifles are specialized in long distance accuracy and if you get hit by one of their paintballs, I can assure you, it's gonna hurt!" Several groans could be heard from the crowd. "Don't get me wrong, it hurts to be shot by any paintball, but theirs is just going to have a higher velocity on them... which means it's gonna raise a bigger bump on your skin if you get hit in an unprotected spot. The snipers can be the most valuable players on your team, due to their effectiveness, but you have to protect them! Their bolt-action rifles ensure that they can only fire once every couple of seconds. Now, you all have the option of wearing additional body armor, if you so choose, but it's gonna weigh you down. You're only required to wear, at minimum, goggles and an armband for team identification."

Several participants began to gravitate back towards the equipment lockers to take him up on his offer, having heard about the risks involved in being out there with little protection. Cal had been standing amongst the rest of the crowd when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He turned around to see Will standing behind him, wearing a ghillie suit and holding a rifle at his chest pointed diagonally towards the ground. The ghillie suit was not much more than a cloak large enough to cover Will's back. The shaggy material was just enough to give him a little bit of camouflage. "I should have guessed that you'd cry about it until you got to be assigned a sniper role," Cal remarked.

"Actually... the squadron agreed that Patterson and I would be the snipers, since that's what we do as pilots while we're in combat," he replied. Of course, he was referring to the other 25-G pilot in Rabbit Team. He put his fist up again, "I need a spotter and point man. You in?"

Cal smiled and bumped his fist against Will's to let him know he was in agreement. "What about Nene?"

"I'll babysit the chickling," she replied as she approached from behind Will.

Thad, who had been standing nearby, heard her remark. "Hey! I am not a newbie! I've got plenty of combat experience, you know...!"

"Welcome to the big-leagues, chickling," Cal responded with a grin on his face. In his mind, he was already thinking about how he was the newbie in the squadron just a few months ago. Now, he was one of the veterans responsible for making sure the new pilots got to be the brunt of every joke.

"Okay! On to the next item," the park employee said. He looked up at the monitor, which now showed some kind of sample picture taken during another event at some time in the past. "Here is what you're going to see when you put these goggles on." He used a laser pointer to draw attention to various parts of the picture. "These goggles will display a HUD for you to see during the match. Here, we have a compass at the top-middle. This will obviously show you directions so you don't get disoriented out there. Also, you will see this highlighted line on the compass reading. It's telling you what general direction the flag is. If the flag has been picked up, it will move along the compass, relative to where you are on the course. That way, anyone who has the flag knows that they're gonna have everyone hot on their heels."

He then pointed to other portions of the HUD on the goggles with his laser pointer. "Here is your current ammunition count on your gun. You will all be supplied with refills, but you'll have to do the reloading yourself. The canisters are easy to swap out and reattach to the hopper on top, so it won't take you too long to reload. Just make sure that you choose a good time to do it, or you might find yourself on the receiving end of someone else's paintballs." A few laughs came from the crowd of players. "These goggles have dynamic light filters that will highlight friendly players without affecting your ability to see everything else. They will also display the player's identity above their head so you can communicate with each other. You have radio headsets that will allow you to talk to each other. You can restrict your signal to team-only, or toggle it to speak to everyone on the course." He laughed a little bit as he continued, "We like to encourage a little bit of trash-talking between teams to keep things moving out there."

Nene stared at Cal. "You'd better behave! I'll shoot you myself if I get tired of hearing your chatter."

"What...?" he replied with a feigned look of innocence.

"Okay, and finally... We have these armbands to identify your team. Any of you who chose to wear body armor will also have a large stripe on your back and chest colored according to what team you're on." He looked around to get a quick idea of how many people were going to play. "Is everyone here and ready to play?"

"Yeah!" most of the crowd chimed.

"Okay, let's get this started. I'll need the teams to separate so we can make sure your colors are correct. Red team is over here, and blue team is over there," he said, pointing to two separate staging areas.

All of the players began to separate into their assigned teams while the employees checked their colors to make sure that there weren't any mixups. Will made it a point to single out the other two snipers on the other team to gauge their capabilities based on his impressions of them.

"Everything looks good. Okay, let's get you guys to your starting points," one of the employees hollered. "Red team, you go with him. Blue team, you're with me."

The large groups of players had already started to make their way down the hill and into the course when someone began to yell at them from behind "Hold on!"

Surprisingly, Klan was jogging down the hill, wearing paintball equipment. She had even opted to wear body armor, even though it seemed to be a little too big for her. Her hair floated in the air behind her, trying to keep up.

"Oh, we have a latecomer. What team are you on, Miss?" one of the employees asked.

She ran up to where Pixie Team was walking and lifted Cal's arm to see his color. "I'll be blue!" she replied.

"Okay. Come on, then..." he waved her over to his group.

This came as a surprise to the pilots. "We're red team," Cal declared.

"I know that."

He laughed a bit as he realized that she had no intention of being on his team. "Wait, I thought you said you didn't want to play."

"I'm not here to 'play'. I'm here to make sure that _you_ don't win," she said while poking Cal in the chest with her index finger.

"Oooh...!" several people grunted in response to the challenge being laid down.

"You can try..." Cal casually responded. "I just hope you can lift that paintball marker high enough to aim it. That thing is almost as big as you are."

A series of jeers and laughs sounded from the other pilots. Klan, who had started walking away by the time he responded, turned around and used two of her fingers to point at her eyes, then turned her hand around to point at him with the same fingers.

Will leaned in towards Cal's head. "That means she's watching you."

"I know that, asswipe."

After a minute of organizing and double-checking the teams, one of the employees got back onto his bullhorn. "Okay, the teams are set and it looks like the pilots are seriously outnumbered! Are you guys okay with that?" he asked of Skull Squadron.

"That's just the way we like it!" Ozma loudly responded.

The employee shrugged at Ozma's response. "Okay, if that's how they want it... Red team, Blue team, follow us to your starting areas. Good hunting, everyone!"


	46. Reverse Thrust

A/N: DOUBLE POST!

I've got a bit of a surprise for you loyal readers, this time around. I mulled around the idea of adding a prologue to the very beginning of the story for several weeks, and I finally managed to sit down to complete it. So, if you will direct your attention wayyyy back to Chapter 1, you'll notice that there's almost a whole, entirely new chapter tacked onto its beginning. Seeing as how the action in the story has died down a bit lately at this point, I felt like this would be a nice change of pace to the current readers. I know you guys have been starving for some tasty space combat action, and I have served up a full plate of it in the prologue chapter. Be sure to check it out either before or after you read this chapter; it really doesn't matter either way.

As far as this chapter goes, the action does get turned up a few notches. I was honestly very satisfied with the way this whole part of the story worked out. It's tough to read your own work and look at it objectively, but I had to compliment myself on it, for a change. Even my test reader was pleasantly surprised with my resulting chapter. This one is part one of three. The original chapter was almost 28k words, and I've decided to break it up into three parts so I can update the story with more frequency in the near future.

If anyone is wondering, I've never personally been in a paintball match. It's something I'd love to try some day, but that may have to wait for some time. I ended up doing a lot of research into what exactly goes on in a paintball match by watching countless videos of woodsball matches. I also watched several videos on paintball accessories and models of different guns to get a feel as to how they operate. I then used my imagination to construct what it would be like in the future. Sure, they'd have access to some kind of virtual version of old-skool paintball, but what's paintball if you don't get a huge welt on your skin from getting hit? If you ask me, it would cease to be paintball at that point. Eff laser tag! Laser tag is for wimps! :D

School is going by well. I just got finished with calculus 2 in the first summer semester at school and got an A... Ohhhh, yeah! I'm still taking statics and I will be starting chemistry 2 this Monday. Once I'm done with those classes, it's off to UTA!

My current goal for this fic is to post every other weekend from here on out. I may miss a week here or there, but with the shorter chapters, I should be able to fill that schedule with greater ease than before. The prologue I wrote was about 5800 words and it took me about a day's worth of attention, whenever I wasn't obligated to take care of something else. In all honesty, I threw that together relatively quickly, when compared to the amount of pondering I do with each new chapter.

Anyway, let me know of your impressions. I always enjoy the feedback and it helps keep me motivated to produce more material for you guys. See you again in a couple of weeks! -(07/10/11)

* * *

Amidst the heavy brush and tall grass, Alto and his fledgling pilots foraged for their target. The repeating sound of distant paintball markers firing their rounds came from all directions. "Keep your eyes peeled for that flag, guys. It should be around here somewhere," he ordered his wingmates.

They were happy to oblige, but the two pilots who were new to his team were still somewhat in a state of awe at the fact that they were standing next to someone who had a close personal relationship with two certain celebrities. "Can I ask you a question, Lieutenant Saotome?"

Already a bit apprehensive to approve, Alto nodded with a grunt. He had a feeling that he knew what was going to be asked. However, he didn't want to appear unfriendly to his fledglings.

"What's it like to be dating both Sheryl and Ranka at the same time?"

Alto let out a forceful sigh. "It's not like that. Why does everyone think that we're some kind of menage a trois?"

"Well, I see how they're both always giving you that 'special' kind of attention. I just figured you were going out with them both. It's not hard to see, based on their behavior around you." One of the other pilots nodded in agreement.

"You have to understand that I'm getting really tired of being asked that question all of the time."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious and excited to ask, that's all."

"Well, it's not what it looks like," Alto concluded.

A silence fell over the quartet while they trudged through the brush. The sound of leaves and sticks crunching under their shoes, along with the nearby paintball gunfire was all that could be heard at that time.

The same pilot decided to continue the conversation, even though Alto thought it was already over. "Well, if you're not dating them, do you think you could introduce me to Sheryl?"

Alto looked at him, annoyed by his question. Before he could respond, one of his other pilots also asked a similar question, "Yeah, and I'd love to get to know Ranka on a more personal basis! Hook a brotha up!"

Gritting his teeth, Alto put an immediate end to the conversation. "Guys! This is hardly the time and place to be talking about that kind of thing. Keep quiet, or you're gonna give away our position! As pilots, you should know the importance of radio silence when covertly operating in hostile environments!"

To drive the point home, the sound of a nearby paintball marker firing was immediately followed by the appearance of a splotch of paint on one of the pilots' shoulders. "Agh! I'm hit!" he exclaimed, wiping his hand over his shirt and looking at it, as if it was his own blood.

The rest of the team dove to the ground to avoid the incoming fire as several other markers began to fire at them.

"I told you!" Alto exclaimed.

The marked pilot stood there in the middle of the firefight, in disbelief that he was already out of the match. He was again hit by some of the crossfire and cried out in pain, since he was getting hit where there was no protection from the sting of the paintball impacts. "Dammit, you already got me! That hurts!" he yelled at the group of opposing players several dozen yards away.

"Then move the hell out of the way!" one of them responded.

Alto and the remaining pilots in his team opened fire to hold back their opponents. "Look! One of them has the flag!" he declared to his teammates. He then put his hand to the side of his head to open his radio to the rest of the team, "We've sighted the flag. It's in grid B-3 and the it's in the enemy's possession. I'm down one man already!"

"Well, _take_ it from them!" Ozma's voice chided over the radio, "Are you gonna let them push you guys around like that?"

Alto grunted in reaction and realized that he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

"They're not going to help us?" one of his pilots asked.

"Of course not. We're in one of the best fighter squadrons in the NUNS. I think we can handle adversity pretty well and Commander Lee knows that." Alto got up to find a better form of cover to engage their opponents. "If you're not prepared to fight against the odds, then you're in the wrong outfit, pilot!" he said as he leaned up against a nearby tree and opened fire with his marker.

The one pilot in his team who had survived the battle a few weeks earlier nodded towards the new pilot with confidence. It didn't take long for the new pilot to realize that he was among an elite rank of pilots and that they should be capable of more than the average NUNS soldier. "Okay! Let's do this, then!"

"Confidence is both a pilot's strength and weakness," Alto continued while firing an occasional burst from his marker, "Being self-assured in what you are capable, while at the same time aware of your limits is the key to finding the perfect balance in battle." Alto felt it necessary to dispense some of the knowledge he's gained through combat experience to his fledgling pilots. They were successful in marking a few of their enemies on the other side of the small clearing in the forest, including the flag-carrier. "See? There's better things to do than to talk about women while in combat, right?"

"Right!" both pilots simultaneously answered, continuing to fire upon their opponents.

"Remember the squadron motto: 'Always outnumbered, never outgunned'!" Alto blared to his pilots.

…

"Nene told me what happened to you at her place last night," Will casually remarked to Cal. He was lying on top of some matted brush, with only his head showing above the pile of greenery. With the ghillie-like cloak covering his back, his rifle-style marker slowly panned from left to right as he looked for targets.

Cal was sitting down on the ground next to him, covering Will's six. He grunted with nonchalance at the statement.

"Are you holding up okay?" Will asked.

"I don't see anyone right now. You're good to go."

"That's not what I meant," Will replied with a laugh, "I meant between you and Klan."

"Hm? Oh, I'm sorry... I guess I wasn't really paying attention, there. I'm fine."

"'Fine', huh?" Will said with a hint of disbelief, "You two looked like you were having a bit of a spat back there in the pavilion. Then she decided to single you out as we were starting the game. I'm confused. It's like nothing has changed between you two."

"Women are confusing, aren't they? They say one thing, but mean another. You just can't get the straight truth out of them," Cal responded. Obviously, he was still somewhat upset about Klan's reasoning from the night before.

"I don't know, Cal. I don't really have that problem with Nene. She and I have gotten along swimmingly ever since we met. We are always able to second-guess each other; it's as if we think exactly alike- Hold on..." he interrupted himself. He fell silent after taking a short breath and holding it in.

Cal looked up at him just in time to see him fire his rifle, flinching in reaction to its loud "POP" sound.

"Dammit!" Will exclaimed as he quickly cocked the bolt to load another round into the firing chamber. He fell silent for another moment before pulling the trigger again. *POP!* A moment after the round fired, a distant scream could be heard. He started to laugh as he saw what had happened, "Ha ha... That guy is not going to be able to comfortably sit down for a few days. I got him right on his ass!"

Cal smiled at the report of success. He also snickered a bit at Will's off-color remark. "Anyway, I'm glad to hear that you two get along so well. It's completely opposite for Klan and I. We constantly argue with each other and I always feel like I'm walking on eggshells around her."

"I'll bet dollars to dimes that she feels the same way around you."

"What?" Cal asked for clarification.

"That she has to be careful of what she says around you, or you're gonna take it the wrong way."

"Oh." Cal didn't consider her point of view when it came to the interaction between the two of them. He always just assumed that she would say whatever she wanted, without any consideration as to how it would affect him. However, her recent apprehension around the matters of the heart fit in line with what Will had just told him. "Damn. Maybe you're right. I never thought of it that way."

"Sometimes, it's hard to see yourself from a third-person perspective... without a clear, unbiased opinion."

"So, what you're saying is that I should listen to you more often?" Cal said with a laugh.

"Yup! That's what you need a wingman for." Will adjusted his scope and caught sight of some of his teammates. "There they are..."

"Who?"

"Saotome and his brood. He's got the flag and he's moving up into enemy territory. We just need to make sure he doesn't get hit."

"Good!" Cal replied. He got up to get a look at their immediate surroundings. He panned across the small meadow nearby and narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to locate something. "Have you seen either of their snipers?"

"I haven't seen nor heard," was the reply. Will opened up his radio to the team, "Patterson, have you seen any sniper activity?"

"None," the radio replied, "I've only seen your activity. Nice butt-shot on that one guy, by the way!" A few laughs opened up on the radio in response, including Will's.

"Thanks. Now let's see if we can clear a path for Saotome and his team."

"Roger that!"

Will snapped the cover on his scope shut and secured his gear as he rolled over to look at Cal. "Okay, we need to move up. Patterson's probably doing the same thing on the east side of the course. We'll just cover from the west side."

Just as Cal nodded in acknowledgment, the muffled sound of a distant paintball rifle shot could be heard above the normal marker fire. They both rolled back onto their stomachs to find the source of the sniper fire. Will opened his radio back up, "Patterson, was that you?"

"Negative. Saotome is pinned down. One of his guys got hit by an enemy sniper."

"Dammit!" Will exclaimed in Cal's direction. "We need to find that asshole before he tears through them."

Another sniper round fired. This time, they were both alerted to the general vicinity of the sniper's position, due to the direction of the sound. "Over there!" Cal exclaimed, pointing to their left.

"I'm working on it." Will was already searching the area with his scope. Their radios were alive with chatter, due to the confusion being caused by the enemy sniper.

"Guys, calm down. Keep the chatter to a minimum," Ozma's voice sounded over the radio. The response was prompt; the voices quickly filtered down to almost nothing, opening up the lines of communication to important information.

The enemy sniper fired again. "Dammit! Saotome's down!" someone exclaimed over the radio.

"Boom! Headshot!" an unfamiliar voice rang over the radio. No doubt, it was the enemy sniper taunting them over the general frequency.

"Ha ha ha! Nice!" several other unfamiliar voices sounded out. It seemed that the other team was ripe with confidence... and a bit of cockiness.

"Garrett!" Ozma's voice barked from their headsets, "You and Wagner are near that sniper. Why is he still marking my pilots?"

"Sorry, Sir! We're working on it right now!" Cal replied.

"Not good enough! We're down a whole squad now and we don't control the flag anymore! Someone get down there and make sure they don't get their hands on that thing again!"

"Yes, Sir!" came a response from one of the other pilots.

Cal sighed in frustration, "Do you see him yet?"

"No... but I think he's on that hill over there," Will replied. He focused his sights on the top of a hill in the distance.

"Why do you think he's over there?" Cal asked as he tried to see with his own unaided eyes.

"Because that's where I'd be if I was in that direction." Will adjusted his scope again just in time to see movement in the tall grass on the hill. From his point of view, he could see the reeds waving back and forth, as if they were being disturbed by something stronger than just the slight breeze blowing across the forest at the time. "Bingo!" he said as he saw the muzzle of a paintball rifle appear from the reeds. It appeared to be pointing in their general direction.

"See him?" Cal asked with exuberance.

"Yeah, hang on... Oh shit, I think he sees us..." Will quickly prepared to fire, unwilling to retreat to cover and blow this opportunity. He may not get another chance to counter-snipe the enemy marksman. An eerie silence fell over Cal and Will as their anticipation grew exponentially with each passing moment. Even the local paintball marker fire seemed to stop for that moment.

Will took in a small breath and waited a few seconds before firing. *POP!* Time seemed to slow down as he watched the paintball round sail across the course towards its intended target. A small cloud of gas puffed away from the enemy sniper's gun just as Will's round entered the vicinity, indicating that he had also fired upon them. With uncanny precision, Will's paintball round found its mark right on the front of the enemy sniper's helmet, covering most of his face with paint.

"Hah! Got him!" Will replied. He put his hand on his ear to open up the general frequency. "Boom! Headshot! Right between the eyes!" he gloated to the enemy sniper and team. Just as Will was getting into the moment, a high-velocity paintball round impacted right on a large stone that was partially concealing Will's head from the enemy sniper's fire. Some of the paint splattered over his head, coloring a nearly-perfect semicircle mark on the tree behind him.

"Holy shit, dude!" Cal exclaimed. He crawled over to wipe the paint off the rock with his hand and showed it to Will. "Two inches higher and he'd have nailed you right on the head!" he said with a laugh.

Will didn't find it funny at first, but then he let out an exasperated sigh before laughing in response. "Wow... That guy had some skills for a mere crew member. I wonder why he isn't a 25-G pilot too?" he pondered. He quickly shrugged at his own question and opened his radio back to team frequency. "Enemy sniper is down. We're going to move to his position to take his spot. We should be able to cover about half of the course from there. He was in grid C-5."

"Roger that, Garrett. Patterson, I want you to move up alongside him on the east side and you both can provide fire cover to the middle area while we progress into their territory," Ozma ordered.

"Yes sir. I'll set up camp in C-1," Patterson replied.

Will packed up his gear and stood up. He put his hand out to help Cal get up from his prone position. "Let's get going. I can't wait to get to that spot and see who else I can nail," he said with a mischievous grin. They both started walking to their intended coordinate as Will put his hand up to his head to open team communications again. "Nene, where are you guys?"

"We're just ahead of you in C-3. Meet us here and we can help you get on top of that hill," she responded.

"You read my mind," Will responded with another grin on his face. He put his hand down and looked at Cal. "See what I mean?"

Cal grumbled at the situation and looked away for a moment. As he looked back towards Will, he became alarmed at what he saw. "Look out!" he exclaimed, using his right hand to push Will backwards and out of the way. He quickly turned, knelt, and aimed his marker at an enemy target, opening fire with a couple of short bursts. The rounds met their target, only this 'target' wasn't quite what Cal had initially thought. He stared at it for a moment as he slowly dropped his marker to his side. "What the hell...?" he whined.

Will approached Cal and looked in his direction to see a peculiar sight. Cal had marked one of the flora growing in the area. Its appearance was oddly familiar. It was a simple trunk standing just shy of five feet tall. The trunk split into two towards the top and a long, cobalt-colored plume drooped from the top of both ends. "Oh, haha... yeah. I've been meaning to ask you if you'd seen these plants before. They're native to this planet, and I guess they tend to grow in this area. I've seen a few already out here."

"Geez, I thought it was Klan!" Cal remarked. He slowly got up from his knelt position and felt a bit awkward at having opened fire on the poor plant. "It looks just like her!"

"Yeah, I thought the same thing when I first saw one."

"I'm just going to have to be careful if I see any more of them out there..."

"A little jittery, are we?" Will sarcastically asked. He began to increase his walk to a jogging pace. "Let's get going. We need to get into position quickly."

Cal took a couple of moments to mentally compare the likenesses of that plant and Klan. Even nature seemed to be reminding him of her. After a bit of hesitation, he left to follow Will towards their new spot.

…

Several shapes and arrows were drawn into the dirt in the amidst of several members of the Blue team. Holding a stick in her hand, Klan rallied her troops using some crudely-drawn plans. "The flag should be here, so we're going to need to set up at a good vantage point to defend it from the Skull pilots. We've got snipers here and here, so there shouldn't be any problems with getting flanked. All we have to do is sit on the flag and let them try to take it from where it lies. Any questions?"

Brera happened to be walking by with a casual stroll. There was something about him that seemed to exude confidence. He knew what he was going to be doing and nobody was going to tell him how to do it.

"Sterne!" Klan called out to him, "I've got a strategy lined up here and we'll need your help."

He scoffed before he replied, "I already heard every word you said. That strategy isn't aggressive enough. I'm just going to head straight on in to their base after grabbing the flag. I'll put an end to this match much quicker that way."

"Wha―" Klan replied with frustration, "Don't get cocky! They're not gonna just roll over that easily! You need to wear them down!"

"You can do what you want, I'll do what I want, okay?"

She stomped over to where Brera was standing to confront him. Apparently, she doesn't take any kind of insolence too well, no matter who it comes from. "Don't underestimate them. They have some crafty and cunning pilots. They work well together as a team. I can vouch for my former subordinates, that's for sure."

Brera smirked and scoffed once again. "Bah, I've never had any problems with any of them in the past while in combat..." He took a couple of steps away from her, but immediately stopped walking. "Then again, it says a lot about them if you are that confident in their abilities."

She raised her eyebrow and folded her arms. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Um, I'm saying that 'maybe I should be careful' if you think that they're going to be a threat. It's just that I haven't had _too_ much of a problem with the Skull pilots in the past, with the exception of Lee, Saotome... and you. But since you're on my team and Saotome is already out, I think the odds are well on our side."

Klan quickly calmed down, not really knowing how to take his response. "Oh... sorry..." She let out a nervous laugh, realizing that she was actually being complimented.

"Why the hostility, anyway?" Brera was a little surprised at her reaction, "Is it because I shot you down _twice_ last year?"

It was obvious that he had hit the nail right on the head because she immediately got defensive, "Don't even start with that! I'd whoop your ass if we had to dogfight again!"

"Well, to be honest, the only chance that you'd have of beating me is if you used something other than that aging Rhea. For what it's worth, I could tell that its performance was holding you back."

She took in some breath for a rebuttal, but stopped herself from saying anything because she had expected him to take cheap shots at her. Her demeanor immediately turned more amicable. "Now, on _that_ I can agree with you." She re-folded her arms and closed her eyes to gloat a little bit, "Let's just say that I have some new tricks up my sleeve. I just can't talk about them..."

"That's nice..." Brera nonchalantly replied. He turned away to look off in the distance. "That still doesn't make me change my mind about my strategy here, though."

"Fine! You go do your thing. Don't come complaining at me if you get hit."

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you back at the pavilion after I've captured the flag." Brera didn't stick around for any more chatter. He had a mission to complete and he wasn't planning on stopping for anyone or anything.

Klan turned back to the other team members who were still waiting for some sort of direction. "Okay, I guess we'll modify that plan a bit. We'll follow him, but keep our distance. If he succeeds, we win. If he doesn't, we can just fall back to my original plan: just let him get shot and we'll camp the flag where he drops it. It's a win-win situation, right?" She waited for everyone to agree and got several nods in reply. "Oh, by the way... if any of you see Wagner, let me know. I'd like to put him out of his misery myself, if possible."

…

The constant firing of the paintball markers off in the woods could easily be heard from the pavilion. A steady stream of crew members mixed with the occasional pilot was flowing in from down the hill. They all looked slightly dejected, having been eliminated from the match, but they were otherwise laughing and chatting with each other. They did have some stories to tell of what they managed to accomplish out on the paintball course.

Captain Wilder, having elected to not participate, seemed to be enjoying the match from the spectator's point of view. He sat at one of the tables near a monitor within the pavilion, sipping from a lowball glass. He was probably drinking whiskey, since his drink had a bit of a crystal-clear, amber hue. The ice cubes in his drink would clink against each other and against the glass every time he lifted it up to his mouth.

"Hey, Cap," Commander Ortiz approached him from behind, "Damn, they already started?"

Wilder turned around to see Stephen placing some of his personal belongings on one of the open tables. "We were wondering if you were gonna make it in time. Did you get everything together?"

"Right here," he responded while patting a small box which he had placed onto the table.

"Well, bring it here!"

Commander Ortiz walked to Captain Wilder to deliver the package, but stalled mid-stride when he noticed Wilder's obscure clothing.

"What?" The Captain asked, knowing full well what Ortiz was thinking of saying. It was almost as if he was enjoying watching the reactions from his subordinates upon seeing him dressed like a beach hobo.

"Nothing. Just wondering if you ever found that lost shaker of salt," Commander Ortiz said with a wry grin.

While still watching the monitor in front of him, Captain Wilder smiled at Ortiz's slight jab. "No sissy margaritas around here," he said while lifting his lowball glass in the air a bit, "This here is a man's drink."

"Ooh... where can I get this 'man's drink'?" Ortiz asked, looking left and right for some kind of beverage bar. He heard the sound of a glass being placed on the table right next to him and turned around to see Commander Choi cheerfully filling his request.

"I saw you come in and thought you might want some," she said, sitting down next to him and smiling at his reaction. She held a glass of her own in her hand.

"Thanks, Sam!" He seemed to wiggle his fingers on his hand before grasping the glass. He took a sip and put the glass down. "So, are you ready for the announcements?" he asked after swallowing his drink.

"Mmhm..." She had turned some of her focus towards the monitor showing the action going on in the paintball match.

Commander Ortiz slowly panned his view over the rest of the pavilion. There were still quite a few crew members and family who were not participating in the match, opting to just enjoy the picnic with good food and good company. "Where's Jen?" he casually asked.

Captain Wilder responded without uttering a word by using his finger to point her out on the monitors, even though he was holding his drink in his hand.

…

Entrenched in the bushes near one of the larger trees in the area, Commander Thompson and his new pilots patiently waited for the inevitable firefight. The flag laid about 50 feet away from them, clearly visible to anyone within a reasonable viewing distance. It looks like they might have the same plan in mind as Klan does.

"Anything yet?" Commander Thompson asked of his sniper.

"Nope, not a creature is stirring, Sir," Patterson replied. A blanketing silence fell over the four pilots; anticipation was all they could sense at the time. Ensign Patterson had perched himself on one of the low-reaching branches and behind the main trunk of the tree, giving him a good vantage point from which to pick off any incoming members of the Blue team. The distant paintball marker fire would occasionally grip his attention, but he would quickly turn back to his current focus: making sure that flag didn't go anywhere fast, unless it was one of his teammates on the grab. Despite his need to stay focused, he decided to open up a friendly discussion. "So, Commander... tell us a little bit about yourself. Now that you're one of us, we'd like to know a little bit about our new team leader and squadron XO."

The other two pilots chuckled to each other, signaling their agreement.

Commander Thompson hadn't expected to be asked this question at this moment, but he wanted to appear as open and amicable as possible. After all, these pilots were going to be covering his back whenever they were in combat. "Uh... heh heh. I don't know where I should start." He nervously chuckled before picking a topic at random. "Well, I spent almost a year flying in Diamond Force before transferring here. Going from a 171 to a 25 is going to be quite an experience, I gather."

"Ah yes... very nice. I have heard a lot of good stories about Diamond Force. You're going to fit in real well here. The 25 is a beauty, isn't she?" one of the pilots responded.

"Yeah. I've only been through the simulators so far. My first real flight is scheduled for tomorrow, so I am really looking forward to handling one of those babies myself."

"You won't be disappointed, Sir."

A moment of silence passed, giving Patterson a chance to change the subject somewhat. "What about family? I see you have a wedding band on your finger."

Commander Thompson responded to the question by looking at his hand for a moment before placing it back onto the stock of the paintball marker. "Well..." he trailed off, "She left me awhile back. I still wear it, anyway."

"Are you separated, then?"

"No, we got a divorce."

"Why do you still wear that ring, then?"

He took several moments, but eventually answered, "I don't know. I still love her, but... you know..." He looked up with a bright look on his face, "We have a little boy together, though!"

"Ah! Do you get to see him often?"

"Yeah. Ever since we got back from deployment, he's come to visit me every weekend. I can't believe how quickly he's growing up." He stopped talking for a moment to let the other pilots chuckle a bit at his fatherly attitude over his son. "What about you guys? I take it you don't have any kids?"

"Kids? Heck, I don't think I'll be getting married anytime soon!" Patterson replied. The other two pilots laughed in agreement.

Thompson chuckled at the response. "I'm sure that will change when you guys get older. I felt the same way when I was your age..."

"Not me! You won't see me tied down to a woman. I know where to find 'em when I need company!" one of the pilots declared.

"I'll be sure and tell your girlfriend you said that, dude," Patterson replied, "She'll be thrilled to hear it; I guarantee it."

Commander Thompson laughed at the pilot's mortified look.

"You wouldn't _dare_! If you snitch to her, I swear to God, I'll-"

"We got incoming!" Patterson quickly interrupted.

The other three pilots immediately quieted themselves down and prepared for some action. Commander Thompson quietly spoke to Patterson, "Who is it?"

"Umm... I see Margot. He's not even wearing a helmet to cover that huge hairdo of his. Not smart..." Ensign Patterson continued to peer through his rifle's scope to report on their identity. "There's Wentz. Ooh, and Lam Hoa... Hey there, pretty thing, come to Papa," he said out loud, calmly beckoning to Lam from so far away.

"Are you still pining for her? She's too smart for you. She'd never fall for you," one of the pilots chided.

"For your information, I only _fancy_ her. There's a big difference," Patterson replied with a confident tone, "Besides... I could get her attention if I really wanted to."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"Guys, focus," Commander Thompson interjected.

"Yeah, sorry about that. It looks like we've got the entire bridge crew, plus I recognize some of the hangar mechanics headed this way."

"Alright. Let's let them get close in so Patterson can pin them down. We're seriously outnumbered, so what we need to do is just hold our ground and inflict as much attrition as possible, okay guys?"

"Sounds like a plan!"

…

"What's he doing?" Lam seemed impatient and fidgety and expected a quick answer from Jen, who was crouched next to her. Jen simply patted the air with her hand, telling Lam to calm down and keep her voice down.

Ahead of them, Bobby carefully searched the area to identify any potential dangers. The distant paintball marker fire had mysteriously diminished, almost making things a little _too_ quiet for comfort. After peering over a small embankment for a moment, he crouched down and spoke to his teammates over the headset. "I see the flag!" he said with some excitement in his voice, "I don't see anyone around, but be careful! This could be a trap." He then motioned for everyone to move closer. "Stay low!"

Groups of 3 or 4 players each would rush forward to the embankment, staggering their approach in a cautious manner. Such tactics should be expected of soldiers, regardless of their primary duties. Most of the group had gathered along the embankment, ready to make their next move.

"Okay, we just need one person to go grab the flag and the rest of us will cover you. Any volunteers?" Bobby asked of the group around him.

"I'll do it!" one of the crew members exclaimed as he stood up and immediately dashed towards the flag.

"Wait! Not so fast!" Bobby yelled, reaching his hand out in a futile attempt to stop his teammate from rushing towards the flag.

The moment the crew member reached the flag and bent down to retrieve it, all hell broke loose. The nearby bushes came to life with paintball marker fire from the members of Rabbit Team, who had patiently waited for the perfect time to strike. The eager crew member was hit several times, falling to the ground out of reflex. He yelled out in pain, reacting to the stinging sensation on his skin where he had been hit. It was probably the smart thing to do to just lay there and take cover, lest he be hit again. There was nothing he could do anymore, except watch the firefight from his prone position.

"It's an ambush!" Jen yelled out to her teammates. She, along with everyone else stayed on the embankment, hoping that the incline would give them the cover they needed.

"Just stay put and return fire!" Bobby barked.

"Where are they?" one of the nearby crew members yelled, looking around. There was a fair bit of confusion among the ranks, deeming Rabbit Team's ambush as quite effective. The exchange of marker fire made it difficult to pinpoint the exact location of their assailants. Streams of paintballs sailed through the air in seemingly random directions.

"They're in the bushes!" Bobby yelled, "You guys over there need to flank them or we're not going to end this anytime soon!" He motioned for a large portion of the group to follow the embankment around to the backside of Rabbit Team's entrenched position.

They acknowledged, sliding down the embankment a few feet and hopping to their feet. With a steady pace, they rushed to their assignments. They didn't get very far, however.

One of the pilots in Rabbit Team had positioned himself alongside the embankment to mow down the approaching players. It seemed that they had gone through every possible scenario to defend their positions, having the foresight to cover that attack approach with one of their own.

Bobby noticed the detachment's demise and grunted in frustration. "Dammit! They really have this flag covered. We might have to wait for our snipers to get into position."

"Agreed!" Jen noted out loud. She turned to the rest of her team members, "Just stay here and wait for reinforcements. As long as we're here, they can't take the flag. We should be safe from their fire for now."

Most of the team members retreated a bit to shield themselves from the marker fire, with a couple of them continuing to return fire just to keep the Rabbit pilots on their toes.

Lam was growing impatient and used her headset to communicate with the rest of the team. "Where are our snipers! We've got the flag in sight, but we need help picking off these damn pilots!"

Before she could get an answer, the teammate next to her took a high-velocity paintball round on his back. Fortunately he was wearing a protective vest, so it didn't hurt. He did, however, feel the force of the paintball. "Aw, dammit!" he whined, reaching for his back with one of his arms.

Suddenly, everyone nearby realized that they were in sight of an enemy sniper. They looked around to find the source, only to see another one of their teammates take a hit on the side of their helmet. "Sniper!" several of them simultaneously yelled. Just when they thought that they were going to be safe for awhile, their solace turned into panic once more.

Jen caught sight of a puff of gas from the large tree in the distance. The sniper was perched several yards above the ground, giving him perfect line of sight on their position. "He's in the tree!" she yelled, opening fire on him with her marker. Several others did the same, staying put on the ground, despite being vulnerable to the incoming fire.

Ensign Patterson didn't even flinch at the paintballs impacting on the tree trunk just in front of his face. He knew that it would take an extremely lucky shot to get hit, which allowed him to do his job unabated. Each shot from his rifle was followed by a reload, cocking the bolt backwards then forwards to put a new round in the marker's chamber.

Watching as their teammates fell one by one, Bobby had to admit the inevitable. "We're sitting ducks here! Retreat back to the tree line!" he barked.

With some hesitation, each team member got up from their position and sprinted towards the safety of the nearby woods. The smarter ones ran in a serpentine motion, making them harder to hit.

A few moments later, the remaining team members loosely gathered behind the cover of the trees and bushes, gasping and panting after having sprinted at their top speeds to avoid being tagged out. Most of them had their backs against a tree for cover. Jen leaned forward and looked to her left and then to her right. "Where's Bobby?"

"He didn't make it," one of the crew members responded with a somber tone and pointing off in the distance behind Jen.

She looked back to their old position, taking care not to reveal herself to the enemy sniper. She could see Bobby casually walking around the area, helping their teammates up from their prone positions and leading them off of the course. He seemed to be talking to the pilots in Rabbit Team nearby, probably making some snide comments about their strategy. He didn't seem to take losing very well.

"How many of us are there left?" she asked, counting each team member in her mind. "Six? That's all?" Their losses were a bit hard to take, seeing as how they had started out with so many in their group. There was no telling where and how many team members were left on their team in other areas on the course, but the fact that the radio chatter was down to a minimum didn't bode well for their chances.

Suddenly, the sound of running footsteps could be heard from the other side of some bushes nearby. Everyone near Jen pointed their markers in the direction of the sound, waiting for the eventual emergence. Fortunately, their goggles helped to highlight the newcomer with their team's color, avoiding any possible issues with friendly fire.

Brera dashed through the bushes and stopped in the middle of Jen's group, momentarily wondering why they were all taking cover in such a manner.

"Get down!" Jen yelled at him. "They've got a sniper out there and there's three of them covering him."

Brera, who wasn't breathing heavily in the slightest, casually crouched and smiled at Jen. "The flag's up there, isn't it?"

"Yes, and they decimated us when we tried to take it. They're dug in there real deep and we can't crack them open. Are you alone?"

Brera didn't answer initially. He walked over to one of the trees, taking cover behind it. He then quickly peered around the trunk to assess the situation. "I see there's four of them. Yeah, they're positioned pretty well, too. It's no wonder you guys had so much trouble." He had only taken a split second to look around the corner, probably using some sort of thermographic imaging mode afforded to him by his cybernetic implants.

Not knowing anything about Brera's past, Jen sat on the ground and looked at him with disbelief. "How could you see them so easily?"

One of her teammates leaned over to her to explain. More than likely, this person knew of Brera from contact with him during the Vajra War. "He's a refugee from the Galaxy colony, so he has implants," he said while pointing at his own head with his finger.

"Mhmm..." Brera grunted, "Don't worry, I'll get that flag for you guys and cap it too. Just stay out of my way." He took a step forward and stopped for a moment. "Oh, and I'm not quite alone. A bunch of your teammates will be here in a moment." He scampered off to parts unknown, choosing to disappear in the woods instead of running at Rabbit Team head-on.

Right on queue, a small contingent of Blue Team members emerged from the interior of the woods, with Klan leading the way. She stopped nearby and took a seat next to a large bush. She seemed to be slightly out of breath, having chased Brera all this way across the course. "Which way did he go?" she tersely asked. A couple of Jen's teammates silently pointed off in the woods with their markers. "Ah, screw it," she said with a frustrated sigh, "If he wants to get shot, that's his prerogative."

"Hey, Commander!" Jen greeted with as much amicability as she could muster, considering the circumstances that she was in.

Klan briefly looked at Jen out of reflex, but quickly looked away to hide her seemingly festering contempt for the Lieutenant. "Hi," she managed to utter. Klan sighed heavily and crawled over closer to Jen to find out what was going on. "What's the situation?"

"There's four of them up there guarding the flag. They have a sniper with them, too."

The mentioning of a sniper caused Klan to perk up a bit. "A sniper? Did you see who it was?"

"I don't know, Commander," Jen replied. She then smiled as she turned back towards Klan. "Why? Are you looking for Cal?"

Klan preceded her reply with a heavy sigh, "Yes... I'm looking for Cal." She noticeably rolled her eyes at the question.

"I saw you call him out right before we started," Jen said, "What's this obsession you have with him, anyways?" Her voice seemed to have a bit of animosity in it.

"Obsession?" Klan seemed to be offended by the word. "I am merely here to make sure that he gets put in his place. You can't allow him to get overconfident in himself or he gets too cocky." She felt certain that her answer was sufficient to explain her actions.

"Why is it your business what he does? You're not his commanding officer anymore. All you do is pick on him and make him feel like he's not good enough. Every time I've seen you around him, you're busting his chops about something else."

"You don't seem to understand, Lieutenant," Klan forcefully replied. She was doing her best to stay calm, but her abrasive nature kept trying to surface. "He's the kind of person who gets complacent if he's not properly motivated. I refuse to let him settle for anything less than what he's ultimately capable of. As a matter of fact, he actually appreciates what I do for him."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he tells me so all of the time! _You_, on the other hand, tend to want to constantly coddle him. He's a grown man. He doesn't need you pampering him every time he's feeling a little bit... off."

For some strange reason, the sudden sound of a screeching housecat could be heard from somewhere nearby. Both women stopped talking and looked towards the source of the sound, wondering why there was a cat in this part of the woods. They both quickly set their sights on one of the nearby crew members, who was standing a few feet away with an amused look on his face. "No catfighting, ladies!" he said, wearing a wry grin.

Jen immediately griped at him, still riled up from her "discussion" with Klan, "This is none of your business. Didn't your mother ever teach you that you should never get between two women when they're arguing?"

He didn't get a clue. He clawed at the air with his fingers curled in his hand and feigned a feline hiss, "Sssss!" Before he could laugh, several "POP!" sounds coincided with a sharp pain in his legs. He jumped a couple of inches into the air in a reaction from feeling a stinging sensation in several places on his body. "Ow!" He looked down to see that he had been hit a few times and looked back up to the source of the paint.

Klan's marker was aimed directly at him and she wore an annoyed look on her face.

"Thank you!" Jen responded, looking in Klan's direction. It seems that she was thinking the same exact thing, only Klan had moved a little faster.

"Aw great, now I'm out!" he complained.

*POP!*

Without delay, he was hit by another paintball from Klan's marker. "You were warned! Now scram, soldier!" she barked.

He clicked his tongue and grunted in frustration, taking very little time to start walking in the direction of the pavilion.

Jen watched him for a moment, making a mental note of how he looked like a beaten dog, walking away with his tail between his legs. She then turned back to Klan and sighed to release some of the tension that had been building up within her. "Look, I don't really know what goes on between you two. To be honest, he's never really mentioned anything to me about you. I guess if you look at it that way, he hasn't complained to me about you, so maybe you're right."

Upon hearing the fact that Cal never talked to Jen about her, Klan felt a little surprised on the inside. She began to wonder if there was something really going on between he and Jen, and unsuccessfully tried to shake the thought out of her mind. Was he hiding the details of a relationship with Jen from her? There were questions that needed to be answered. "So, why are you so protective of him?"

Jen turned away to look back up the hill where Rabbit Team and the flag probably still remained at that moment. "He's always been there for me when I needed someone to talk to. He has a way of making me feel better when I'm worried about something. I just want to be able to return the favor when I can. Right now... he's not his normal self. Something's bugging him."

"Do you know what it is?" Klan already kinda knew, but maybe Jen would be able to shed a little light on what's going on with Cal.

"Yeah. I don't know who it was, but some _bitch_ he'd been crushing on turned him down."

For obvious reasons, Klan felt rage building up over Jen's colorful description. Using every ounce of self-control, she kept the conversation moving on. "Is that what he told you?" A forceful tone was eking its way out with her voice.

"Well, not in those words, no. As a matter of fact, he didn't have anything negative to say about her. He just wouldn't go into any details about it with me. I just think that anyone who turns him down is a dumb broad and doesn't deserve him anyways..." Jen laughed at her own remarks, completely unaware of whom she was referring.

By now, Klan could only keep her teeth clenched. She spoke through her teeth, trying hard not to get upset at Jen, "Well, _maybe_ she had good reasons, whoever it was..."

"I... would _love_ to hear them, if I can ever get Cal to open up about it. I could always use a good laugh!" she replied with a chuckle. "Guys like him don't come around too often. If I ever got the chance again, I wouldn't pass him up, that's for sure."

In the distance, a short burst of paintball marker fire sounded off, causing Jen to look off in that direction. The team frequency opened up with Brera's voice, "Bingo! I got the sniper. You guys can move up now. Keep the rest of them distracted so I can take them out!"

As if the conversation meant almost nothing to her, Jen reacted to the news with vigor. "Alright! You heard him!" she yelled at her teammates sprawled out in the woods nearby. Before jetting up the hill, she gave Klan a quick and innocent glance to acknowledge the end of their conversation.

Klan simply stood there, watching everyone else scale the small hill. There was no doubt that something was causing her to hesitate. Once everyone had taken up prone positions at the top of the hill, she put on a determined look on her face and stomped through the tall grass towards the rest of her teammates.

Several members of the Blue team laid down just before the top of the hill, engaging the remaining members of Rabbit Team from a distance. Meanwhile, Brera continued to work his magic behind their defensive line, causing the pilots to frantically yell at each other. "Agh! I'm hit!" "Where the hell is he?"

Jen assumed the role of field commander, taking refuge behind the rest of her teammates a bit of a ways down the hill. She stayed crouched in the grass, keeping watch for any possible enemy flankers. "Just keep pouring it on, guys! Make sure you don't get hit!" Although she was watching to the sides for attackers, she neglected to watch her back, assuming that it was rather safe. Perhaps this wasn't the wisest of choices.

The muzzle of a paintball marker appeared not but a couple of feet behind her head. The marker's wielder aimed right at the back of Jen's head, but seemed to hesitate firing for some reason. Klan stood behind Jen, contemplating the possibilities of her impending decision. She squeezed her hand even tighter around the gun's grip, causing her finger to pull back on the trigger by just a hair. It was almost as if she was an assassin, determined to exact her vengeance on the guilty party. "_If you think I'm just going to let you win the game, you've got another thing coming_," she said in her mind towards Jen.

Right in front of Klan's eyes, a paintball round impacted on Jen's helmet. Its momentum caused Jen's head to rock in the same direction as her neck slowly absorbed the force. Klan pulled her marker back towards her own body, surprised at the appearance of the paint. She quickly wondered if she had, in fact, fired, looking at the muzzle end of her marker. She quickly dismissed the possibility.

Jen reached up and wiped the paint off of her helmet to verify that she'd been hit. After looking at her hand, she turned backwards and looked at Klan with horror. "Did- Did you just _shoot_ me?" she demanded with a sense of shock in her voice.

"No!" Klan barked back, "I didn't even pull my trigger, I mean-"

Her sentence was cut off by the near-miss of another paintball round. This one sailed by right in front of her face, alerting her to the direction from which the inbound fire was coming. She then dashed back towards the tall grass and the cover of the nearby trees yelling "Sniper!" out loud to alert her teammates.

Jen stood there for a moment, unsure of what it was that Klan was doing directly behind her. She had no choice but to shrug it off and casually walk back to the pavilion. Unfortunately, the rest of her teammates didn't hear Klan's warning and remained in their current exposed positions, still engaging the remaining pilots of Rabbit Team in the brush nearby. Since she had been hit, Jen was not supposed to say anything to them and she ended up leaving the area without anyone knowing what had just happened.

Fearing for her well-being, Klan decided to dive into the tall grass to conceal her position from the sniper. She took a few precious moments to gather her thoughts so she could formulate a plan. "That was where _our_ sniper was," she said to herself, "That means Will took our sniper out and took his spot. Three guesses as to who is with him..." A smile crept across her face as she prepared to make her move. Counting to three, she jumped back up on her feet and dashed towards the safety of the trees. Sure enough, another paintball round narrowly missed her again, impacting on the trunk of the first tree that she passed by from behind.

* * *

A/N: This is just a reminder for those of you who chose to wait until after you read this chapter to read the new prologue... :D


	47. Reverse Thrust, part 2

A/N: Okay, obligatory apologies aside, there's a couple of minor updates. Summer classes, combined with a job, are a bitch and a half! I decided to spend my time focusing on my classes, so that didn't leave a lot of energy for writing. I'm done with my summer classes now, though.

I've completed my move on-campus at my university and now I have a few days of free time before the fall semester starts. It's time to get some writing done!

* * *

"Shit! I missed again!" Will exclaimed as he cocked the bolt on his rifle to load the next round. Klan's elusiveness was already testing his patience.

"She makes a small target, doesn't she?" Cal remarked, sitting a few feet away while he looked out for any incoming enemy players.

"That, and she moves pretty damn fast. Makes her a hard target to hit." Will searched around using his scope, but came up with nothing. "Dammit, she got away. Oh well, it looks like the rest of them don't even know they're about to get hit!" Will was almost salivating at the target-rich environment on the side of the hill a few hundred meters away. He checked the counter on the display on his goggles, "5 rounds left in this clip. Perfect. That's all I need to finish them off."

"Garrett!" the radio boomed in his ear, "We're getting hit from all sides! Can you hit any of them from there?"

"I'm working on it now! Give me a few moments!" he replied, then turning towards Cal for a moment, "Watch this, dude."

Cal could only sit and watch as the expert sniper zeroed in on his targets and went to work.

*POP!*... *POP!*... *POP!*... *POP!*... *POP!*

Each shot fired was skillfully followed up by a quick reload action on the rifle's bolt. It only took him a couple of seconds to fire a round after reloading, meaning that all five shots took him about 15 seconds.

"Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. And... hit," Will confidently reported, inspecting his work through the scope. He then rolled to his side to grab another clip out of his pack, "They didn't even know who was hitting them!"

"Nice job, Babe," Nene said to him from a few feet below his perch. She and Thad were also on the lookout for any enemy players. Indeed, Pixie Team worked well as a team, no matter the situation, supporting each other's strengths.

The radio was still alive with chatter from Rabbit Team. "He's too fast!" "I can't hit him! Garrett, where the hell are-" The voice abruptly cut out. Most likely, the radio was rendered inoperative once a player has been hit, in order to keep them from giving away enemy positions afterwards.

"Shit," Will mumbled, looking through the scope after reloading his rifle. He watched as Brera effortlessly and skillfully assaulted Rabbit Team's fortified positions all by himself. "Who's the blonde guy? He's tearing them up!"

"Does he have kind of a vacuous look on his face?" Nene asked.

"Yeah, he looks like some kind of emotionless killing machine when he's doing his business. Talk about wearing a serious game face!" Will answered.

"Oh, that's Brera Sterne," Nene declared with a slight hint of amusement in her voice, "He came from the Galaxy colony. He's got a bunch of cybernetic enhancements and implants in his body, so he's got some unnatural athleticism."

"Wait, I remember hearing something about this guy," Cal said, "Wasn't he an enemy pilot?"

"Yeah. He even shot my sister down two separate times during that whole conflict. Don't worry, he's a good guy now."

Will whistled out loud in reaction.

"Shit..." Cal calmly replied. He thought for a moment about the caliber of pilot that it would take to best Klan in combat twice. "Well, wait a minute. That means he flew a VF-27, doesn't it?"

"Yup."

Cal blew a raspberry, "Big deal. If I had an enhanced body and a machine like that to fly in, I'd be totally unstoppable."

"But you don't," Nene retorted, "so watch yourself with that guy."

"We'll see about that..." Cal said as he started to inch his way down the hill.

"Where are you going?" Thad asked.

The radio opened up to the sound of Ozma's voice, "Rora, are you still out there?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Where are you guys?"

"We're still in sector C-5 covering Ensign Garrett."

"All four of you? Good, I need one of you to get down here and help us defend the base. It looks like Brera Sterne is headed this way and I'm going to need some extra bodies to take him out. The rest of you hold your positions and give us some cover when we come back up the field with the flag."

"I'm on my way," Cal replied on his radio. He then looked at his wingmates with a satisfied grin. "Does that answer your question?"

"Will, can you see our base from here?" Nene asked.

"Yeah, I've got a clear shot," he replied, looking back towards Ozma's position through his scope.

"Good. You provide any covering fire you can and we'll keep an eye out for any other targets for you in the meantime."

"You got it!" Will replied, turning and settling into his new prone orientation.

…

"Quit fidgeting!" Sheryl complained at Alto as she applied some cream to his arm.

A large, red welt had been raised on it due to being hit by the Blue Team sniper early on in the game. He clicked his tongue and forcefully exhaled in frustration. He leaned forward and propped his head up with his other arm while Sheryl nursed his wound.

"I just don't get why you guys insist on subjecting your bodies to such abuse. We have all of this advanced technology and you guys are still playing with paintballs. Why?"

"No pain, no gain, Sheryl," was the reply. Alto seemed to be satisfied with himself, having taken part in something of a bonding experience with his wingmates.

"You men. Sometimes, I wonder what it is that makes you all behave so irrationally," she shot back.

"Hey, there are quite a few women out there playing too. You could have come with us if you wanted to, you know."

"Hell... No." Sheryl was never going to admit that she might have even considered joining the match.

Ranka appeared from nowhere with a compression bandage rolled up in her hand. "Okay, here you go."

Just as she started to wrap it around his arm, Alto found more reasons to complain. "Oh, come on! I don't need a bandage! It's fine!"

"Hold him down," Ranka asked of Sheryl. She wasn't in the mood to argue about it.

Sheryl responded by jumping onto Alto's back, causing him to stagger his posture a bit. "What the hell?"

Both Ranka and Sheryl laughed at the situation while they did their jobs. Whether he liked it or not, Alto was getting that arm bandaged up. It's almost as if they enjoy pulling his strings the way they do.

Nanase had been sitting a couple of seats over, intently watching the action on the monitor overhead. "There he is!" she exclaimed, finally seeing Luca's image broadcast from one of the chaser cameras milling around the course. He crouched against a short metal wall, concealing his body from incoming marker fire.

…

"I can't hold him off for much longer, Ozma!" Luca exclaimed over his radio headset. Paintballs either impacted on the other side of the wall at his back, or sailed over his head. Suddenly, the assault seemed to stop, prompting Luca to turn around and gauge the situation from behind the safety of the wall. Seeing no more movement, he decided that now would be his only chance to retreat.

"Just keep calm, Luca. We're almost ready," Ozma's reply came over the radio.

Still short on breath and slightly panicked, Luca acknowledged Ozma's orders. He then tried to convince himself of his ability to survive the encounter. "I can do this," he muttered to himself under his breath, "I can do this..." Using all of his strength, he made a dash towards the end of the artificial wall; the safety of a run-down shack was only about 20 meters away. There, he could turtle himself inside of its protective shell to hold off his assailant for as long as possible.

Each step on the way seemed to take an eternity, and his legs began to burn halfway there. Looking around in every direction for what seemed like several times a second, he was fortunate enough to not be able to locate his attacker. The sanctuary of the shack was only a few steps away. The feeling of relief was more than welcome when he finally reached for the door and pushed it open so he could dive inside.

*POP!*

To his surprise, the only thing that stopped him from going inside was a paintball round to the chest. The sudden sound of a firing paintball marker caused Luca to flinch. Brera was already inside of the shack, sitting on the ground against the wall and covering the door with his weapon. He wore a satisfied grin on his face as he saw Luca's expression after being shot.

Luca looked down at his body armor and cupped his hand under the impact point on his chest. For a split second, he thought he had been shot for _real_, but quickly dropped his hands to his sides and sighed in frustration. Without a word, he turned around and walked out of the shack towards the pavilion up the hill.

…

"Talk to me, Kanaria," Ozma whispered into his radio. He seemed to be perched on top of one of the rudimentary buildings in Red Team's base, awaiting the impending assault.

"I'm ready," she replied, "But are you sure this is the smartest way to defend? We're not even watching the base itself."

"Trust me. This is the most direct route to the base. It wouldn't be Brera's style to try and sneak around to get there. He's not the type to avoid a head-on confrontation. He'll come, don't worry..."

"If you say so. Ever since I started following you, you've never led us wrong."

Ozma quietly laughed into the radio. "Is that why you changed your mind?"

It took her a few moments to answer. "Um, partially... That, and I couldn't let you run off on this mission on your own." She laughed before continuing, "The pilots in Rabbit Team began to refer to you as my 'work husband' when I was their team leader. I think that term is brutally accurate, don't you?"

"Hm. I guess so... I never really thought of it that way." Ozma checked the compass on the HUD in his goggles to locate the flag's relative position. The bright yellow line was exactly in the center, indicating that the flag was directly in front of him. Only the distance was unknown. "Looks like I was right. Get ready."

Ozma aimed his paintball marker from his prone position down the slight slope in the direction of the flag, narrowing his eyes while he searched for any sign of movement. His patience and perception rewarded him when he suddenly found himself under fire. A quick burst of three rounds fired from inside of a bush about 20 meters down the hill. Ozma returned fire before shrinking back to avoid being hit. He waited for the paintballs to sail over his head before leaning forward and regaining his former firing posture. Just as he was able to see down the hill again, he saw Brera dashing at top speed up the hill to take cover behind a large tree. Ozma managed to fire off a few more rounds, hoping that one might land on his target. Unfortunately, Brera was moving too fast for the paintballs to actually hit.

"You know I can see you, right?" Brera yelled from behind the tree. He was now about 15 meters down the hill from Ozma.

"Yes, I'm well aware of your capabilities. It must be nice to be able to see in the infrared range of light."

"Makes you guys light up like neon signs. That kind of puts you at a disadvantage, doesn't it? Are you sure you want to go through with this pointless fight?"

"Fighting is _never_ pointless. When you're facing a formidable opponent, one basic strategy is to neutralize his strengths; you have to level the playing field a bit."

"Oh? How do you plan on doing that?" Brera took the opportunity to move up the hill a couple of meters by dashing to the next tree.

"Come at me, if you want to find out." It was fairly obvious that Ozma had a plan, but Brera didn't seem to care. He was playing right into Ozma's mind games. "You weren't that tough to deal with when you attacked me on Island-3 so many months ago. Let's see what that artificially-enhanced body of yours can do!"

"Roger that." Brera replied with his usual casualness. With little delay, he turned himself around the tree to expose his torso to Ozma's sight, opening fire with his paintball marker. As he expected, Ozma was positioned to return fire and did not hesitate to do so. Using his lightning-quick reflexes and sharp sight, Brera managed to dance around enough to avoid being hit.

"Not bad, but I'm not yet impressed," Ozma goaded as he continued to fire upon the agile Brera.

Sensing an opportunity to advance, Brera leaped forward through the air and began to charge up the hill. He made sure to move in a serpentine motion to keep Ozma's accuracy from getting too reliable.

Just as Brera began to approach the top of the hill, Ozma rolled away out of Brera's sight and opened his radio, "Now, Kanaria!" He then used his finger to flick a peculiar bulb-shaped plant next to his body.

About the size of a beach ball, the bulb's leathery skin contained a bit of a surprise for Brera. As if it reacted to Ozma's disturbance, the bulb opened from the top and spewed a thick stream of feathery spores into the air.

From her position on top of the nearby bunker built into the earth on top of the hill, Kanaria opened fire with her paintball marker, hitting as many bulbs as she could. Each hit was confirmed by the ejection of spore material into the air. Soon, much of the space in front of the bunker was filled with floating spores.

As soon as he reached the top of the hill, Brera found himself unable to accurately locate Ozma. His thermographic vision was obscured by the spores, which seemed to give off exceptional amounts of heat as they floated through the air. "What the hell is this crap?" he exclaimed as he squinted his eyes and used his arm to try and brush the spores out from in front of him. For a moment, he had forgotten that he was now exposed to incoming fire and heard two paintball markers opening fire. All he could do was fall backwards to avoid being hit and regroup from there.

"Living on a new planet is full of wonderful surprises, isn't it?" Ozma yelled, "There's these neat fungi all over the place here that will spit out their spores if they're disturbed by something. The spores give off heat signatures that are comparable to a human body's while they're in the air. Isn't nature neat?"

Brera scoffed at Ozma's comments. He cautiously poked his head above the slope's edge to see what might be going on at the top. The spores were suspended in the air, moving at the breeze's every whim, but refusing to fall to the ground. From his perspective, the spores glowed like lightbulbs in the air, obscuring his vision at the infrared wavelength. He closed his eyes and opened them again, resetting his vision back to the normal visible light spectrum. "Never without a plan, huh?" he asked of Ozma.

"Only fools charge into battle without one. You young ones are often too brash and cocky to realize when you're in over your heads."

"We'll see about that," Brera barked as he got up and dashed in towards the bunker. At that point Ozma and Kanaria had fortified themselves nearby and opened fire on him. Due to the incoming fire, he had to cut his assault short and take shelter behind a fallen tree trunk. Several rounds impacted on the wooden barrier just as he reached it. Another bulb nearby erupted from being shot, renewing the level of spores in the air. It was Ozma's determination to keep Brera's sight on the same level as his and Kanaria's.

From his hiding spot, Ozma kept his paintball marker trained on Brera's last-known position. His radio crackled in his ear.

"I'm in position, Ozma," Cal's voice sounded. It seemed to be slightly muffled, however.

"Good! Stay there and await further orders. I've almost got this guy, so we may not need you after all..."

"Roger that."

A complete silence fell over Ozma as he waited for Brera to make his next move. However, he knew that the spores wouldn't stay airborne indefinitely. He had to consider the possibility that Brera was going to wait for the air to clear up a bit before continuing his advance. Although the spores obscured the heat signatures in the area, they didn't cloud up the air too much for him to clearly see through them with his "normal" vision. "Kanaria," he whispered into his radio, "We need to flush him out before the spores settle out of the air."

"How? He's too fast and accurate for us to attack him directly."

"Keep firing at him at a slow and steady rate just to make noise and to draw his attention. I'll try to move into a better position while you distract him and keep him pinned down."

Ozma hopped down from his perch and dashed into the brush nearby. It appeared that his plan was to flank Brera through the woods and hope to remain undetected. The sound of Kanaria's marker firing intermittently echoed through the woods near Ozma, doing a pretty good job of obscuring the occasional rustle of the leaves and snapping of twigs below his feet.

It didn't take him too long to reach a better vantage point from which to fire upon Brera. Kneeling down in preparation to fire, Ozma noticed that the other side of the huge fallen tree was devoid of a target. The yellow flag simply laid there on the ground, attracting the indicator on Ozma's HUD. "Kanaria!" he forcefully whispered into his radio, "He's not there! He somehow got away!"

"Shit... Any idea as to where he went?"

"No, but hold your position and keep your eyes peeled. He dropped the flag so we couldn't track him. At the first sign of trouble, blow that spore pod next to you and run back to Wagner's position!"

"Okay, but this is the last one that I can see. We seem to be running short on options," Kanaria replied.

The best thing for Ozma to do at that point was to try to remain concealed from Brera's sight while he tried to locate his elusive target. The sudden sound of a native bird squawking in the trees above his head startled Ozma. He looked upwards to see it fly from its perch and sighed in relief as he realized that it wasn't Brera. A moment of silence followed, but Ozma was once again alerted to the sound of a single footstep behind him. Almost immediately, he felt the metallic muzzle of a paintball marker tapping on the top of his helmet. "Nevermind, I found him," Ozma chirped into his radio with a notable hint of disappointment in his voice.

Kanaria turned to look in his direction in the woods just in time hear the sound of a single paintball round being fired and saw Ozma's visual marker disappear from her goggles's display. "Ozma?" she replied, hoping that it was simply an equipment glitch. No answer came.

Instead, Ozma slowly appeared from inside of the woods and casually walked across the field towards the pavilion. He tried not to look up at where Kanaria was so he wouldn't give her position away. When he was in plain view, he turned away from her to show her the back of his helmet. There was a pronounced discoloration splattered all over his helmet in an almost abstract-art kind of way.

Kanaria knew that she was now all alone at her current position. She slowly inched herself away from Ozma's former spot, keeping in mind the location of the spore bulb nearby. She might need to burst it, just in case she needed to escape from Brera's inevitable assault.

From the distant viewer's perspective, it was only a few moments before an eruption of spores coincided with the trading of paintball marker fire. Kanaria seemed to let out a battle shout in the midst of the firefight, but the encounter quickly dissipated back into silence.

Brera stood on top of the earthen bunker as he watched Kanaria walk away towards the pavilion. A cloud of spores still hung over his head, but he could now clearly see the goal at the end of the meadow to his right. He began a brisk walk towards the rudimentary structure, removing himself from the bothersome spores before switching his vision back to infrared. He had already visually inspected the meadow for anymore spore sacs and proceeded with the notion that there would be no more surprises. No significant heat sources were in view from his perspective.

It seemed that three paths intersected right in front of the goal structure. The course designers had created it this way to give attacking players multiple ways to enter the enemy base. It's easy to look good while defending; having multiple possible alleys of attack made defense a more difficult job, though.

Brera stopped just in front of the intersection, squatting down in the tall grass to survey the area before moving forward. All he had to do was enter the building and touch the goalpost with his hand. The flag remained securely tucked in one of the belt loops on his pants. He first checked for spore sacs with his normal vision, and then checked for heat signatures with infrared vision. Despite the eerily quiet atmosphere, he confidently began to dash across the large intersection of paths. As he jogged along, his vision was firmly set on a hollowed-out log that was partially submerged into the ground. That would be the perfect spot for someone to camp, hoping to get a lucky shot off on him.

Sure enough, a paintball marker began to fire upon him from that very spot. Because he had correctly deduced the possibility of attack, Brera was quickly able to leap backwards to avoid the incoming fire.

"Surprise, asshole!" Cal yelled as he jumped up from his hiding place and ran after the retreating Brera. The semi-circle-shaped, hollowed-out log followed him, seemingly attached to his back like a tortoise shell. Behind him, he had left a rather large divot in the ground. He appeared to have dug the hole to hide his feet from view and used the dirt to stop up the front end of the log, so it would block his heat signature.

Rather brazenly, Cal continued to pursue Brera while firing his paintball marker at him. He kept Brera from returning fire with any semblance of accuracy because he was able to accurately predict Brera's landing points. With every leap, Brera found himself becoming more and more off-balance, due to Cal leading him with his marker fire.

All it took was one more misstep before Brera tumbled to the ground and started to slide down the slope at the edge of the meadow. A colony of slippery moss had made its home all over the ground in the area, making it nearly impossible for him to right himself.

"Aha! I've got you now!" Cal said as he reached the top of the slope to come into line of sight of the now-sliding Brera. He stopped running, knelt down, and aimed his rifle to deliver the killing blow, only to find that his marker was no longer firing paintballs.

*Tik tik tik!*

He looked at the ammunition indicator on his goggles's display to see that his hopper was empty. "Shit!" he said as he ejected the empty cartridge from his marker and reached to his hip to grab another.

Brera used this opportunity to try and turn the tables on his attacker. He plunged the retractable blade from his arm into the ground to stop his momentum. With his free arm, he pointed his marker back up the slope to return fire.

Cal realized his moment of vulnerability and spun himself around behind one of the trees at the top of the slope. He finished reloading his marker and peered around the tree to continue his assault. He fired just as Brera retracted his blade to continue the slide down the slope. At that point, it was all Brera could do to avoid being hit.

"You didn't fire," Cal spoke to Brera over the open frequency on the radio, "Why?"

Brera took a moment before he answered, "It wasn't worth firing on you there. I didn't have a good angle."

"Bullshit," Cal laughed, "It doesn't get much better than that. I was completely defenseless and standing up in the open, there. I think you're almost out of ammunition. You've seen a lot of action, no doubt. I would be willing to bet that you're trying not to run out." He waited for a response, but got none. "I don't hear you disagreeing with me. Honestly, you're the first _live_ target that I've fired upon this whole game. So, I've got plenty o' ammo."

"First 'live' target?"

"Uhh... don't ask." Cal rolled his eyes at his own response. He didn't want to admit that he had mistakenly fired upon an inanimate object earlier in the game. "That was a pretty good move back there, to drop the flag so they couldn't track you. I also heard about your special 'eyes' and how you can see heat signatures. That's a pretty cool trick, but I've devised a few countermeasures. A good pilot always uses his countermeasures to win a fight, am I right?"

"An even _better_ pilot doesn't need to use them to win."

"While that's _technically_ true, it doesn't mean that you're better."

"Why's that?"

"Because you're using your artificially-enhanced body as an advantage over us. You're fast and hard to hit because of it. Poor old me, I have to do things the old-fashioned way. So, which is it?"

"I've just got more advanced technology, that's all. Deal with it."

"Pfft... all you Galaxy pilots think you're the hot shit just because your bodies can withstand for more g-force then ours and you have those fancy-ass BDI/BDS systems in your birds. Despite your quote-unquote advantages, I still managed to shoot down a bunch of your pals out there in combat."

"Well, first of all, they're not my 'pals'. Second of all, 'good for you'. Now stop whining and let's finish this."

"Ladies first!" Cal taunted.

Brera chuckled at his response and began to formulate his plan of attack. It seems that he's going to have to take things from a different approach when dealing with this nuisance. Taking extra care to not be detected, Brera used the long grass located on the side path leading to the base to conceal his movement. He had already learned that a head-on attack wasn't working well for him. Both Ozma and Cal had prepared well for that contingency. He decided to drop the flag in the midst of the tall grass on the eastern path leading to Red Team's goal. He couldn't afford to give his position away. Klan was right; the Skull pilots are a crafty bunch.

As Brera circled around the back of the base through the woods, he realized that the only entrance was on the front side. Wherever Cal happened to be hiding at, he was going to have to risk another encounter to capture the flag and finally put and end to the match. The sight of the same hollowed-out log caught his attention, though. It was positioned in the tall grass in the midst of the west path, covering the middle and east paths leading to the base. Cal's shoes could be plainly seen poking out the backside of the log, along with the muzzle of his marker sticking out the front end. Brera rolled his eyes and scoffed under his breath, "How stupid does he think I am?"

Almost instantly, Cal opened up his radio to try and goad his opponent into attacking, "I've got other things to do later on today. Quit stalling already! I've got a paintball with your name on it right here!"

Brera chose to ignore the taunting and quietly approached the familiar disguise Cal was wearing. Just like with Ozma, Brera couldn't wait to deliver the execution style kill-shot to the back of Cal's head. Using every bit of stealth he could muster, he finally reached Cal's position from behind and tapped on the log with his marker. "Hey... Your stupid disguise didn't work again. Just tell me if you want it in the head or in the chest." Brera taunted.

No movement nor verbal response came from underneath the log. Brera again made his presence known. "Hey! I've already got you! Just get up and take your punishment!" he said as he kicked Cal's shoe. The shoe tumbled through the grass because there was no foot inside of it. Realizing that something was out of place, Brera used his foot to flip the log over. Inside, Cal had placed his protective helmet on top of his marker and his shoes at the back end of the log. At a glance, it looked like someone was inside, but once the subterfuge was removed, it was nothing more than a distraction. Brera picked up Cal's marker and scoffed. "Hey, dumbass," he taunted over the radio, "How do you expect to beat me without your marker?"

"Oh, shit," came the response, "I hadn't thought that far ahead. What ever will I do?"

Cal's sarcasm really came out at the end of his response, causing Brera to stop to think about what he could possibly be planning. Just as he shook any doubts from his mind, Brera felt the impact of a high-velocity paintball round square on his back. Not even flinching from the pain, he rolled his eyes and displayed his disgust, "Ugh!" He dropped his marker to his side and noticed Cal emerging from inside of the goal bunker.

Despite only wearing socks on his feet, he confidently approached Brera's position, slowly and sarcastically clapping his hands to his defeated foe. "Couldn't dodge _that_ one, could you?"

Brera momentarily stood there in disbelief and simply _had_ to ask. "Why on earth would you leave your weapon on the ground and leave yourself defenseless like that?"

"Because I knew I could count on my teammates to help me out," Cal replied, "I knew that the only way we could hit you is if I could get you to stand still in the open like that. I figured that the only way you'd let your guard down is if you thought I was no longer a threat to you. That's teamwork, baby!" Cal put his hand out, expecting to have his marker returned to him.

"I hope you step on something sharp," Brera replied with a wry grin as he tossed the marker back to Cal.

Cal watched Brera calmly walk away and opened up his team channel through his goggles. "Once again, you've come through for me, Will. Nice shot, dude!"

"Just doing my job!" came the reply.

"Give me a few minutes to get my shoes on and retrieve the flag. I'll meet you guys there and we can move on their base. Any visuals on Blue Teamers?"

"Nope! We're doing good! See you when you get here."


	48. Reverse Thrust, part 3

A/N: Here's part 3 of my chapter. Yep, it's pretty big, but there was a lot to cover. I considered breaking this up, too, but I need to keep things moving forward at a reasonable rate. In all honesty, I want to write side-stories featuring many of the other established characters, but I just don't have the time. If I did that, then the story would move at an even slower rate. For now, I need to focus on the more prevalent characters.

I'm just putting the finishing touches on Chapter 49 today, which follows this one. I just need to send it through my test-reader before it's pretty much finalized. That means that I'm back to being one chapter ahead of whatever I post. I've grown more confident in my writing abilities, where I don't have to create material so far ahead of the postings to make sure I don't write myself into a dead-end.

So, this posting contains our little climax, here. I know it's doesn't involve any mecha, but I hope that it turned out to be rather entertaining. It's definitely a nice change of pace, but I was never sure how fans of the show would take it. Don't worry, though. We'll start to see some more super-sexy mecha action very soon. I'll hint at the fact that I have two good combat scenes planned to appear within the next ten chapters or so. I honestly can't wait to get to writing them, but we'll see how much free time life affords me. I just need to quit letting Left 4 Dead 2 distract me so much. ) -(09/18/11)

* * *

Now that he was out of his paintball gear, Ozma stood with his arms crossed in front of one of the monitors in the pavilion. He wore a peculiar smile as he spectated the rest of the match on the sidelines.

Cathy approached him from the side and handed him an opened bottle of beer, "Well, despite being out now, you look rather cheerful."

Happily accepting the drink, Ozma took a quick swig before answering. "Just damn proud of my pilots, that's all. It's such a gratifying feeling when you realize that they've evolved from mere chicklings into full-fledged pilots. They're always so inexperienced and green when they first join the squadron, but they eventually learn that it's not about the individual or personal glory; it's about working together as a team."

"Mhm..." Cathy replied as she took a sip of her drink. "We all saw it, Ozma. By the way, I need to talk to Lieutenant Wagner when we're done here."

Ozma looked at Cathy, expecting an explanation, but her facial expression told him that she'd eventually let him in on the down-low. With a smile, he quickly turned away to get Captain Wilder's attention. "How about those pilots, eh Cap? I can almost taste victory... and it tastes like top-shelf scotch!"

Captain Wilder didn't even bother to look at him to give a response. He kept his attention on the monitors nearby and replied, "It's far from over, Ozma. You know that anything can happen at any moment."

Right on queue, several people near him reacted to the video feed displaying on the monitors, cheering what they had just seen. Something significant had just taken place on the course. A wry grin crept across his face as he turned to look at Ozma. "See?"

Ozma suddenly began to feel his chances of winning the bet slipping away, as he had just seen what everyone else was reacting to.

…

Cal cautiously trod through the thick grassy areas leading towards his teammates' position. The numerous trees and boulders spread around the area made good hiding places for anyone willing to tag him out of the match. There was no way of telling how many Blue Team players were left on the course, but he knew that because he was now carrying the flag, his position could be easily compromised. Each successive movement across the course would have to be made in short sprints, reducing the amount of time he was exposed to any attacks. It wouldn't be long before he could meet back up with his teammates so they could escort him to the enemy base.

The time came for the next dash through the woods and Cal peered around the side of the boulder against which he was leaning. A narrow, beaten path wound its way through the woodsy area near his position. Sure enough, the sound of some nearby voices reached his ears and he quickly, but stealthily identified the source with his own two eyes. Almost as if he was dreading the encounter, Cal leaned against the boulder and took a deep breath to wear down the anticipation a bit. He then looked to his left as he saw the first person walk into his line of sight from behind the boulder. Fortunately for Cal, they stopped right in the middle of the path to mend an untied shoe.

"Will!" Cal loudly whispered.

He was initially startled, but quickly acknowledged Cal's presence with nonchalance and then looked off into a random direction.

"What the hell happened? I was on my way to meet you guys." Through Cal's goggles, Will's body was highlighted with the neutral yellow color, indicating that he was out of the match.

Will continued to tie his shoes and intentionally dragged the process, pretending to talk to nobody in particular, "_She_ got us, dude. Right after our last communication with each other, she got the jump on us from behind and got all three of us in a matter of seconds."

Nene and Todd approached Will from behind, taking notice of the fact that he seemed to be talking to the forest. "Who are you talking to, Babe?" Nene asked. She didn't take long to answer her own question with a quick glance to the right side of the path. Cal was crouched down in the grass to reduce his chances of being seen. "Oh, I see..."

Cal quickly motioned for Nene to look the other way, lest she give away his position if someone happened to be watching them. "Was it Klan?" he asked. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but something inside of him demanded specific confirmation from a reliable source.

With a short laugh, Nene took it upon herself to answer the question, "She wasn't all too happy that you weren't with us. After thoroughly kicking our butts, the first thing she did was inquire as to why you weren't there."

"Hate to say it, but I think you're all that's left of our team," Will declared, still fumbling around with his shoelaces, "The good news is that I think the Blue Team is pretty much down to nothing as well. We haven't seen nor heard any other action since we got tagged out. You just have to get past _her_, she who will not be named... hah."

Cal bit his lip and grunted. Will and Nene were making Klan out to be some unstoppable force and it wasn't helping his confidence level at all. He quickly tried to shrug it off and reaffirmed his confidence within himself. "Whatever. All I have to do is make it to their base and it's all over. I'm sure I can avoid contact if I really try. After all, it's what I do best while flying out there," he said, looking up at the partially-obscured sky. The forest canopy was fairly dense, but the sky could be seen in splotches here and there.

Despite having been looking in other directions, Nene turned her gaze towards Cal and began to back away down the path towards the pavilion area. "Good luck, Cal. You're going to need it."

Will got up from his crouched position and joined Nene and Todd on their way off of the course. All he could muster was an amused smile as he casually glanced in Cal's direction. With a slight hop in his step, he quickly rejoined his other two fallen comrades.

Another grunt slipped out of Cal's mouth before he turned his focus back onto his surroundings. It was helpful to know who he was up against, but their goading did not help all. Following a quick check on his equipment, Cal boldly dashed across the path and into the woods ahead.

Keeping his head low, Cal managed to cover a lot of ground in his sprint. He found a good place to stop and rest for a moment, also giving him time to gauge his surroundings. Off in the distance, a rickety wooden suspension bridge hung over a small ravine, beckoning him to cross there. The faint sound of running water indicated that there was probably a small creek bubbling away at the bottom of the shallow chasm. Just on the other side of the creek was a small meadow, revealing the enemy goal structure a couple hundred meters away. The blue flag on top gently floated in the wind.

However, there were several man-made obstacles strewn about the forest area between Cal and the bridge. There were plenty of places from which to mount an ambush. Perhaps the best approach here was to take this area one step at a time; advice which Cal was eager to follow. He caught his breath and began to quietly pass through the area, checking each possible hiding place with both his eyes and his marker, his trigger finger ready to unleash a salvo of paintballs onto any poor soul within his sight.

"_So far, so good_," he thought to himself. However, the fact that he was holding the flag was nagging at his mind during this entire time. Since anyone on the course would be directed towards his position, it would take an enormous amount of luck to avoid being caught before he reached the goal structure a couple of football-field lengths away. Those couple hundred meters were going to be laborious, if not, agonizing.

With each step, he was closer to his goal, but like most things in life, nothing ever comes easily. Cal's reflexes did him a major favor, reacting to the sudden sound of a nearby paintball marker firing at him.

*POPOPOPOPOP...!*

Unable to initially locate the source, Cal had to focus on getting to a safe place without being tagged. Paintballs were flying all around him as he charged towards the wide trunk of an elder tree nearby. With a desperate dive, Cal disappeared behind the trunk and into safety, tumbling forwards and landing upright to lean against the tree. Several paintball rounds impacted on the tree's mighty trunk before the marker fire finally subsided. His brain finally had a moment to catch up to what he had seen and he realized that he had witnessed some telling clues to identify his assailant. "Klan? Is that you?"

Aside from the sound of the bubbling brook nearby, a silence hung over the air. A few moments passed before a faint answer was heard. "Maybe..."

"Heh..." Cal found this situation to be somewhat amusing, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to just step aside and let me get across that bridge...?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that question with an answer."

"That's too bad. You know, I could just outrun you to the goal, if I wanted to. It might save you some embarrassment later."

Once again, Klan took her time to answer. "Tch... I'm disappointed, Cal. You'd actually consider avoiding a fight with me to cap the flag? Don't be a coward."

Cal was still laughing a bit and it overlapped into his voice as he replied, "I _considered_ it... for about a microsecond." He finally leaned over to peer around the tree trunk to get a visual on Klan's position, to the best of his abilities.

"Still too much time to consider such a thing," Klan responded. She immediately stood back up and began to fire over the wall behind which she had been hiding.

*POPOPOP...!*

Cal withdrew himself behind the cover of the tree once more, while Klan's paintballs impacted against the tree or harmlessly passed by his head. Once the marker fire subsided, Cal climbed to his feet and bent over to scoop up an armful of fallen leaves from the ground.

With her marker intently trained on the tree trunk, Klan waited for Cal to expose himself once more. At the first sight of movement, she adjusted her aim to the right of the tree and opened fire again. She quickly realized that Cal had tossed leaves out to distract her momentarily and succeeded in drawing her attention just long enough to allow him to appear from the other side of the tree's trunk. He was able to accurately fire upon her position while charging towards her, keeping his head low to minimize his profile. Klan had no choice but to retreat behind the wall to avoid being marked, but she knew that Cal wasn't going to relent on his attack. Too close to the edge of the wall to cover herself with her marker, she let it fall to her side, now only hanging by its strap from her shoulder. She kept herself pinned against the wall in anticipation for Cal's appearance into her line of sight.

Cal continued his charge towards Klan's position, continuing to unload a steady stream of paintballs, hoping she'd make the mistake of trying to counterattack him with her own marker. Victory was only a few moments away. All he had to do was to round the corner and put a few rounds into the protective armor she was wearing over her upper torso.

Unfortunately for him, Klan was ready for his arrival. As soon as she saw the muzzle of his marker appear next to her, she grabbed it and used her leverage with the wall to thrust it forward, causing Cal to stumble off-balance. Still holding onto the muzzle, she used her left leg to sweep his planted foot out from below him and jerked downwards on the marker's muzzle. The resulting redirection of force caused Cal to do a complete frontwards flip, sending him down to the ground to land on his backside with a loud "THUMP". This was her chance to tag him out. After that fall, he had to be completely helpless and probably too dazed to fight back. She reached to her side and grabbed her marker to finish him off once and for all.

Cal's inertia, combined with reduced friction from the layer of fallen leaves underneath him, caused him to continue sliding forward until he met the edge of the ravine. "Shit...!" he exclaimed as he realized that he was about to go on an extracurricular trip down the banks of the creek. He lifted his head up so he could see where he was sliding and let his arms lay out to his sides, bringing any dirt and leaves down the incline with him.

By the time Klan had aimed her marker at Cal, he had already disappeared over the edge of the creek's bank. "Goddammit..." she mumbled as she sprinted towards the edge of the ravine.

Cal happened to look upwards to see Klan appear and kneel down to take aim at her with her marker. She had a most determined look on her face as she opened fire upon him. Instead of allowing himself to slide into the creek, Cal jumped off of the base of the incline and cleared most of the small creek with one single bound. Klan's paintballs impacted on the ground right after he made the leap. Sailing through the air following his jump, Cal landed in a shallow area, causing water to splash away from his feet. Several more paintball rounds began to hit the surface of the water nearby, but none of them were able to hit their intended target. With another leap, he landed on the opposite bank and scurried up the incline in a diagonal direction. A low-hanging tree limb gave Cal a great point from which to hoist himself back up over the edge of the bank and into safety. Grabbing the sturdy branch above his head, he used his inertia to swing his legs upwards and let go with a slight shift to the side. He cleared the top of the bank completely airborne, like a small child leaping onto a soft bed. Paintballs marked his exact path of escape along the opposite side of the creek's bank. He was now completely out of Klan's sight.

She grunted in frustration and casually scooted over to take cover behind the tree that was next to her at the top of the bank.

"Ow! Aw, dammit...! Ugh!" cries of pain came sailing over the creek bed towards her ears.

"What's the matter?" She inquired.

"I landed straight on my paintball marker! Argh...!" The straps on the markers did well to help players not drop their weapons if they got into a bit of a physical scrape. However, it didn't stop them from swinging into the most undesirable locations, should the player decide to execute advanced acrobatic moves.

Klan couldn't help but laugh at his misfortune. It was a small consolation for her, since she missed her chance to take him out once and for all.

"Yeah yeah yeah... I'm sure you find it _very_ funny." Cal could be heard grunting and groaning as he righted himself again. "You've got some nifty moves there, woman. What was that? Jujitsu?"

"I took some classes a long time ago when I was younger. I'm glad I remembered after all these years."

"Yeah, good for you... Ungh!" It seemed that he was still feeling some discomfort from that ordeal. Cal sighed and decided to continue baiting Klan into making a bad move, "So, I'm on the other side of the river now. The base is just a short sprint away and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

She tried her hardest to not react to his goading, "Cal, if you go and cap that flag right now, I'll lose all respect for you. Be a _man_ and fight me." Still leaning with her back against the tree, she noticed the yellow flag skip across the ground next to her. Cal had thrown it all of the way across the creek bed; it was tied into a bag-like shape with sand inside to weigh it down. Its appearance was similar to that of a penalty flag from football games.

"You know I was just kidding."

"That's more like it..." Klan walked over to pick it up, momentarily forgetting that she was exposing herself to an attack. She was startled by the sound of Cal's marker firing and was immediately reminded of the situation. She quickly took shelter behind the tree again.

"Hup! That's not for _you_. Just leave it there and we'll finish this up head-to-head with no flag to worry about, okay?"

A smile crept across Klan's face as she realized that he was going to give her exactly what she wanted: the chance to embarrass him in a head-to-head confrontation.

…

Ozma was almost in tears at the pavilion. "What the _hell_ is he doing? All he had to do was cap the flag and it was over!" He shook his fist at the monitor above his head, "You'd better not screw this up, Wagner!"

"Calm down, Ozma..." Cathy said in an attempt to soothe his agitated mood.

Will quietly sat at one of the tables nearby sipping on a drink, when he was hit by a surprise attack from the side. "Will, look over here!" Nene had her camera pointed straight at him and snapped a photo just as he looked in her direction. After waiting for the picture to show up on the camera's display screen, she frowned at the result. "Come on, Hon. You really need to get over this 'thing' you have with getting your picture taken." She sat down next to him to show him the picture. In it, Will had managed to put his hand up to block part of his face; pilot reflexes were pretty tough to overcome.

"I'm sorry. You know I try, but it's just... weird to me."

An idea popped up in her mind and she smiled in reaction. "I tell you what. Every time you're getting your picture taken, just think about how much it is that I love you. You know the smile I'm thinking of..." She tilted to the side and put her arm around him before placing a kiss onto his cheek.

Will simply reached up to grab her forearm, which was just under his chin. He paused for a moment to let the feeling sink in and finally began to crack a smile.

"That's the one..." Nene declared as she raised the camera above her head and pointed at the two of them. She snapped another picture of the two of them and became satisfied with the result. "See? Works pretty well, doesn't it?" Will agreed with a nod just as another voice sounded from behind them.

"Lieutenant..."

Nene turned around to see Jen taking a seat at the next table, wearing a pensive look on her face. "Hey. How are you doing?"

"Um, I'm okay..." Jen replied with a courteous smile, "Listen, I want to ask you guys something."

Will and Todd also turned around to hear the question.

Jen took a short breath to make sure she was sure of what to ask. She pointed up at the monitor still showing the live feed of the paintball match, "What's the deal with those two? It's like they are constantly seeking each other out. For what reasons, I can't possibly imagine. I was hoping you guys could shed some light on the issue."

Will and Nene looked at each other, trying not to laugh. Todd chimed in from the side, "Yeah, I've been wondering since I saw them talking to each other at the table earlier."

Suddenly, Bobby showed up out of nowhere to add his two cents in, "Isn't it obvious?" Will and Nene widened their eyes, knowing that he might spill the beans... "She's in love with him!" he continued.

Once again, Will and Nene shared a quiet laugh with each other and turned forward again. Their silence was all the confirmation that Jen needed. "What? That's incredible! I had no idea..." she replied with a laugh, "Wait. Does he know?"

Nene turned around to answer the question, "Well, kinda... let's just say that he knows, but she won't tell him. He finally got the nerve to confront her about it last night and it didn't really work out the way he had wanted it to. She can be so hard-headed sometimes..."

"Oh, so _that's_ why he was asking us those questions yesterday, Jen," Bobby remarked, putting his hand on her shoulder.

Suddenly, Jen was able to put two and two together. "Wait, if that's what he was doing last night... that means that... Oh, God...!" she exclaimed as she leaned forward to put her face into both of her open hands.

"What is it?" Bobby asked.

She peered up at him with a look of desperation, "I inadvertently called her a 'bitch' right to her face awhile ago! She's probably going to hate my guts for all eternity now!"

"That wasn't very smart. Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't know...! I mean, I didn't know that she was..." Jen stuttered through her sentence, trying to figure out how to explain it to everyone.

To complicate matters further, Commander Ortiz walked over to find out why Jen was acting so distraught. "What's going on?" he asked with a slightly protective overtone in his voice.

"Oh, you won't believe this, Stephen!" Jen responded. She now had a gossipy look on her face, as if she was about to spill the beans to yet another individual. "You remember Commander Klang?..."

Will leaned in towards Nene to ask a bit of a private question, "Is this a good idea to let this little secret spread around now? I am sure that Cal and Klan would appreciate it if everyone didn't know."

Nene looked around before she answered. She could see that a few other people were well within earshot of the conversation occurring at their table. Even Ozma and Cathy were looking in their direction, curious to know what the commotion was all about. She looked back at Jen and Stephen as she answered Will with a low tone, "I think it's too late to be able to do any more damage control. Looks like the cat's been let out of the bag now..." She picked up a couple of chips from the nearby tray and put them into her mouth. She smiled ear-to-ear as she chewed on her food.

…

Even though she was unable to see what was on the other side of the creek, Klan attentively guarded the area near the suspension bridge. Remaining prone at the top of the creek's bank, she knew that Cal's best chance at getting across without making any sound was to use the bridge. Somewhere on the other side, Cal was lurking about, probably formulating some kind of plan to use against her. She couldn't let him operate unabated for too long. "Cal?" she called out to try and get his attention. No response came. She crawled forward to look over the edge of the bank to make sure there were no surprises.

Just as soon as she looked downwards, she heard the sound of a nearby splash and aimed her marker directly at the rippling water just to her left. Something had disturbed the water, but it was difficult to tell what it was. Just as she began to wind her tension down a bit, she heard a couple of splashes to her right this time. Looking in that direction, she could see the remains of two sets of concentric circles radiating outwards on the creek's surface. The current quickly dissipated the rings into the rest of the contours of the water. On closer inspection, she could see what looked like a fresh footprint imprinted in a spongy sandbar near the location of the two splashes. There was now a good chance that Cal had managed to sneak across without being seen and the first splash was probably a stone that he had thrown to distract her.

Looking around her, she realized that she was not in a very good position to defend herself if Cal had, in fact, gotten across the creek. She slowly turned her body and crawled backwards, keeping her marker pointed in the direction of anticipated attack. The sound of a rustling bush from that direction caused her to perk up a bit. She looked like a little bit cat in her reaction; her ears and hair almost seemed to twitch.

"_Get up, Klan_," she thought to herself, "_Just get up_!" She counted to three under her own breath and hopped up to her feet. The very moment she took a step backwards to turn around, the sound of Cal's paintball marker firing at her caused her to duck by instinct before she made a move towards a safer place. Her eyes caught sight of the first volley of paintball rounds sailing over her head. If she hadn't ducked, she might have been tagged.

All she could do was sprint as fast as her legs could carry her. "Aaaaaah!" Yelling in an effort to get her adrenaline pumping through her body, she was able to avoid being hit by the countless rounds sailing close by. Some impacted on nearby trees and bushes that she passed during her escape, while the rest sailed harmlessly past.

Cal followed behind her as closely as possible, refusing to let up his attack. Even after seeing Klan leap over a large fallen tree, he still continued firing while taking a crouched stance. Unfortunately, his marker stopped firing. The ammunition indicator on his goggles flashed a distinguishable red "0". "Dammit!" he exclaimed as he reached towards the small of his back to grab another reload canister.

Klan used this opportunity to reappear above the fallen tree's trunk and return fire with her marker. Cal quickly reacted, letting himself fall to his left so he could roll out of harms way. An artificial wall covered with native vegetation served as his new cover.

It took a few short exchanges of paintball volleys before they both stopped firing upon each other. Both the wall and the tree trunk had gained new paint jobs from the firefight that had just ended. Cal took the opportunity to use his pipe-cleaner to wipe the paint residue out from inside of his marker's gun barrel. He casually sat on the ground, with his back against the wall. "Will was right; you _are_ a hard target to hit. This is actually getting really interesting...!"

The reply came from a distance, so her voice was a little quieter than usual, "I'm actually glad that we're the last players left on our teams."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Because that means that I get to be the one that beats you!"

"Oh? Is that why you decided to play after all?"

"That, among other things."

Cal rolled his eyes, "Oh, brother... What did I do wrong _this_ time?" He waited a few moments for a reply, but got none. "Well? You must be upset about _something_ I did..."

"You know, it's bad enough that you have a seemingly irrepressible ego, but it's really bad when you shamelessly flirt with every female in sight at the picnic. You just think you're God's gift to women, don't you?"

Shocked at what he heard, Cal leaned over to look around the corner from the wall and deliver his rebuttal. "What the-? I'm just being friendly!"

"Uh huh... Friendly enough to kiss Luca's girlfriend on the hand? Friendly enough to get a kiss on the cheek from Lieutenant Whats-her-name? Wentz?"

"Oh yeah..." Cal replied with a laugh, "What's wrong with that?"

"See, that's what I'm talking about." Klan seemed to be clenching her teeth as she spoke to him. Suddenly, she appeared above the fallen tree to unload a few rounds into Cal's direction. "You just don't really seem to care about what other people might think when they see that."

Cal had to retreat back behind the wall once again to avoid her marker fire. She quickly stopped firing at him, allowing them to clearly hear each other again. "'Other people'? You mean... _you_?"

"No, it just makes you look like a playboy; the kind of guy who just keeps putting his hands into everyone else's cookie jars."

"And why do you care what I do? It's none of your business who I can and can't talk to. You don't own me..." His voice had a slightly taunting tone to it.

She grunted before responding, "I know that, but still..."

"Heh... That's the best response you can come up with? Don't get mad at _me_. You had your chance, Klan... and you decided to pass it up."

Silence followed, indicating to Cal that he had firmly established and defended his point of view with her. However, he had to consider the fact that she doesn't like to lose arguments. She's probably seething with rage just a dozen or so meters away from his position.

His intuition appeared to be correct. Klan sat nearly motionless with her eyes shut, angrily frowning at her thoughts. She had her fist clenched as tightly as possible in front of her face until she slammed it onto the ground. "Alright, that's it..." she finally exclaimed, "Are we going to finish this soon? Because I have to report for duty at the base later this evening and I'd like to finish kicking your butt as soon as possible."

Cal smirked at her answer, not sure of what exactly was going through her mind as she said that. She has had a track record of having an ulterior motive in mind when saying certain things. "Somehow, all this seems strangely familiar to me. This feels kinda like that time I beat you in that dogfight simulation so many months ago. You were overconfident then, and look where it got you."

"I got careless and you got lucky. Still doesn't change the fact that you're still a chickling to me. I'll make sure you understand that by the time we get done here."

"Wow, it's been a long time since you've called me that. I was beginning to think that I'd finally been promoted to the next rank in your little system, there." He grunted as he got up from his seated position, "Welp, I guess that will teach me to get my hopes up." He then placed his marker on top of the barrier and aimed it at Klan's last-known position. "Any day, my dear..."

There was no verbal nor physical response coming from her side of the tree trunk, but Cal had no choice but to patiently wait. He carefully aimed his marker and squeezed off a round, aiming for the very top of the trunk. It hit its target dead-on, but there was still no response from Klan. Brazenly, Cal left his cover to find out the cause for her silence. "_She must have snuck off while we were talking_," he thought to himself.

As soon as he got to the rotting tree, he aimed his marker downwards over the other side and fired off a couple of rounds, just in case she really was still there. Since there was no response, he climbed on top of the log and leaned over to see exactly what was on the other side. Sure enough, Klan wasn't there. However, something caused him to do a double-take below him.

With his body draped over the log, he caught sight of a giant knothole in the trunk. It was too small for him to climb inside, but not small enough for her. "_That must have been her escape route..._" He used his hands to push his upper torso upwards so he could look to each side for a possible exit. A timely glance to his left allowed him to catch sight of Klan poking her body out of another large knothole towards the base of the tree. She was already aiming her marker at him by the time he realized that he had little time to react.

*POPOPOP...!*

Cal found himself in a bit of a compromising position. He tried to push off of his hands so he could right himself back onto his feet, but the brittle log instead collapsed under his weight. The hollow, wooden structure completely disintegrated underneath him, causing him to fall forward and tumble to the ground on the other side of the log.

Sensing the impending victory, Klan didn't take notice that the log was propped up by an earthen fulcrum point several feet down from her location. Because of Cal's fall, the log was severed in half, changing its center of balance. Klan quickly found herself on the far end of a giant see-saw and nothing was weighing down the other side. "Oh, shit!" she exclaimed as the log began to tilt backwards. She looked behind her to see that she was heading towards a sizable incline; she was about to go for a ride.

Catching his breath, Cal noticed the groaning sound of the log tipping over the edge of the hill upon which they had been fighting. He caught sight of Klan's face as she disappeared from his line of sight and quickly hopped up to his feet to try and catch her before it was too late. "Klan!" He made it to the top of the incline and could only watch helplessly as the log she was in was now tumbling down the hill.

Fortunately, she had managed to duck back inside of the hollowed-out log, but she still yelled out in fear, "Aaaahh- Aaaahh- Aaaahh-..." Each bounce of the log caused her to hit the side, interrupting her screams.

At the bottom of the hill, the log came to an abrupt stop by impacting against a boulder. Large shards of wood scattered in all directions while Klan's body bounced away from the rock and landed back down onto the ground. She took a moment to snap out of her daze, getting off of the ground and onto her hands and knees. She started to cough both from the dust everywhere and the fact that she had just gotten slammed against a rock. It was obvious that she was dizzy because she was having difficulty staying balanced, even on all fours. Initially, all she could hear was a ringing sound in her ears, but it began to clear up a bit. "Klan! Are you alright?" She could hear Cal's muffled voice begin to pierce through the confusion.

Cal was doing his best to descend the hill, but he didn't want to take a tumble himself. "Can you hear me?" He could see her crawling around on the ground, trying to get her senses back into order.

"Yeah," she managed to reply with a cough, "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

He stopped descending the hill when he heard her response. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, dammit! Did I stutter?" She turned her head to look at him as she responded.

"Okay, good!" Cal responded as he raised his paintball marker to his head and opened fire.

*POPOPOP...!*

Klan noticed his motions, even though she was still quite dazed. A momentary feeling of anger overcame her, giving her the adrenaline rush she needed to spring into action. "Aw, you asshole!" she yelled as she dashed into the brush nearby.

Cal stopped firing as soon as he couldn't see her anymore. "What? You said you were okay. I just figured the game was back on then!"

Beyond the brush, she spotted a large boulder behind which she could take shelter and regain her senses. Still experiencing vertigo from the tumble down the hill, she lost her footing and fell to the ground, sliding behind the huge rock. *Cough! Cough!* "Dammit!" she exclaimed to herself, slamming both of her fists on the ground in frustration. "I _had_ him! I _had_ him! How does he get so lucky?"

"You'd better be ready by the time I find you, because I'm not letting up!" Cal hollered as he cautiously inspected the brush. There were many trees in the area, each with its own complement of thick bushes surrounding their bases.

Klan sat up against the rock and checked her equipment. Everything seemed to be undamaged, but her ammunition indicator on her goggles showed that she only had 11 rounds in her marker. She reached towards her back to grab another refill canister, but the holders were empty.

"Oh, look!" Cal yelled from his position, "You dropped your refills! Thanks for the ammo!" He quickly proceeded to pick them up and place them into the holders around his waist.

Klan sat on the ground, grimacing in frustration. No doubt, she was cursing her misfortune. Not only did she lose her ammunition refills, but they were now in Cal's hands. There was no way he was running out of ammo anytime soon. "_Only 11 rounds left; not enough to make me feel safe. Okay. It's okay. I can still do this_," she assured herself in her mind, "_I just need to make sure I succeed on the first try. No room for mistakes now_." She looked around for a source of inspiration to help her formulate a plan and quickly focused her gaze on a possible solution nearby. "_That's __**perfect**_," she thought to herself. With a wry grin on her face, she climbed to her feet and unfastened the clip holding her optional body armor together over her torso.

Somewhere nearby, Cal searched the area hoping to find Klan quickly before she made her getaway. With each step, he swept his view with his paintball marker, making sure to check every nook and cranny in sight. After a couple of minutes of complete silence, the radio in his headset came to life.

"Come on, chickling, I don't have all day, you know..."

He smiled in response before replying to her over his headset, "You're the one who's hiding from me. Just come on out and let's end this."

"You did the same thing several months ago in the rings of Coral-5. Being hypocritical much?"

"That's true. Kind of weird how our roles are reversed now, huh?"

"Except you're still a chickling."

Cal sighed at her constant taunting. "I'm really getting tired of that moniker. I'll get you to stop calling me that soon enough."

"Aww... am I finally getting to you? Well, show me what you've got!"

With a renewed fervor, Cal set out to find her and shut her up once and for all. Although he had the upper hand due to the fact that he knew she was running low on ammunition, the longer he took to find her, the more nervous he became. Each successive time he whipped to one side, aiming his marker, he noticed his trigger finger beginning to tremble more and more.

Noticing a rather large boulder in the midst of the abundant flora, Cal determined that this might be a good place for her to be hiding. He sprinted to one side of the rock and leaned his back against the hard surface. He cautiously stepped towards a prominent edge of the rock, preparing to leap around the corner and fire, should his instincts be right about her location. As he rounded the corner, he aimed his marker to where his eyes were pointing and quickly identified his target.

*POPOPOPOPOP!*

He straightened up his posture as he inspected his handiwork, but realized that something was not quite what it seemed. Klan's body armor had been marked several times square in the center, but it was draped over one of the native plants that slightly resembled her appearance. A slight breeze blew by, causing the shrub's cobalt-colored plumes to wave a bit. Cal clicked his tongue and stomped over to the small tree. As soon as he grabbed the body armor to remove it, he heard a rustle coming from the bushes directly next to him. A paintball marker muzzle suddenly tapped against his goggles.

Klan emerged from the nearby bushes with her marker aimed squarely at Cal's face. As she moved closer towards him, Cal leaned backwards farther and farther off of his center of balance, staring directly down the bore of the gun. Even with her goggles still on, Cal could see her look of angered determination on her face. She only had one thing to say before she pulled the trigger, "You're _still_ a chickling..."

*POP!*

The paintball round certainly didn't have much of a distance to travel before it impacted against its target. Cal's goggles were now covered in paint and he flinched from the sound of the gun firing. Already off-balance, his reflex reaction caused him to fall backwards and onto his backside on the ground.

Off at the pavilion, those who were still watching the match reacted to the outcome of the match with fervor. They bore witness to the exciting end of the match and while they cheered or jeered, depending on for whom they were rooting, but Klan still had not yet finished her job.

Cal started to grumble to himself as he used one of his hands to wipe the paint away from his goggles. Even though he could still barely see through them, he noticed Klan standing over him like she usually does. He tried to sit up, but felt the force of her foot placed squarely on his chest. "What are you doing?" he demanded. He noticed that she now wore a devilish smile on her face; she was definitely up to no good.

The spectators at the pavilion became a little quieter as they saw Klan point her marker directly at Cal's body. There was almost a unanimous groan as they began to realize what it was that she was about to do to him.

*POP!*

Cal felt the sudden sting of a paintball round hitting him right on his chest. For that split second, he wished that he had opted to wear the additional body armor, but it was _far_ too late to change that now. "OW! What the hell?"

*POP!*

Another shot, but this time in a slightly different spot; the amount of pain felt was quite equal, however.

*POPOPOPOP...!*

Klan unloaded the rest of her marker's rounds onto Cal's soft and unprotected body while he rolled around writhing in pain, "OW! OWOWOWAAAAAAAH...!"

At the pavilion, several of the spectators groaned and turned away from the monitors. Even though they were simply paintballs, it was difficult to watch Cal getting shot up like that for apparently no reason.

While he continued to groan and roll around on the ground in pain, Klan sighed in relief, took off her goggles, dropped her paintball marker onto the ground next to her, and fell to her knees. She reached over to Cal and grabbed him by his shoulders to hold him still for a moment, using the opportunity to remove his goggles from his face.

Cal couldn't care less at this point, all he was feeling was the pain from the welts forming all over his body. Even though she had removed his goggles, he still grimaced in pain, keeping his eyes winced shut. Suddenly, he felt something completely different than before. The pain magically disappeared for a moment and he opened his eyes to find that Klan was now kissing him directly on the lips.

As if they could no longer handle the incredulousness of the situation, most of the spectators at the pavilion burst out in cheer after seeing those events unfold on the monitors in front of their eyes. "YEAH!" At this point, nobody really cared which team won... except maybe Ozma.

Unexpectedly, even he had forgotten that he lost his bet, instead opting to pump his fist in front of his face and turn to Cathy, "I _knew_ it! I _knew_ that she was just hiding it from me!"

Cathy could only smile with apprehension, since she really didn't know that he had been suspecting the result of the chemistry brewing between two of his pilots; one past, and one present.

Nene practically jumped into Will's arms in reaction to seeing her sister finally getting it out of her system. She almost knocked him over as she gave him a quick peck on the lips and raised her cup into the air at the same time.

Bobby simply stood by with his arms cross and a huge grin on his face. He could only stand there shaking his head and smiling. Somehow, he should have known all about that which Ozma had been suspecting for quite some time now.

Next to him, Jen didn't really know how to react. Initially, she didn't even flinch, but as the seconds ticked by, she managed to turn and look at Bobby. His facial expression was all she needed to finally crack a smile. Even though she knew that she was in hot water with Klan, she couldn't help but at least feel happy for both Klan and Cal at that moment. She started to shake her head as she walked back to her table, still smiling.

Back at ground zero, Klan finished what she had set out to do and lifted her head back up a bit so she could look at Cal's facial expression. The look on his face was priceless; he didn't even know what to say. Still, though, she managed to put a very satisfied smile on her face. "But you're _my_ chickling..."

"Wha-?" Cal couldn't even manage to finish one word on his own. Instead, he started to wince as the pain returned to his body.

She leaned over once more and placed her elbows on his chest, laying her arms upwards over his shoulders and pinning him down once more. "You were right, Cal. This is something I should have done a _long_ time ago. I'm sorry for making you wait so long for an answer from me. I just didn't know how to deal with my feelings all this time. It's all suddenly so clear to me now, though," she concluded with another smile.

Despite still feeling the stinging sensations pulsing all over his body, Cal managed a smile of his own, "Man, I haven't seen you smile like that since... well, _ever_." He slowly sat up, still grimacing in pain. He stopped midway to ask a question that had just popped into his head, "Wait, does that mean that you're...?"

She simply nodded in response.

"What about all that stuff you said last night about why it wouldn't work?"

"Ehh... we'll figure something out..." she replied, casually rolling her eyes. She got back onto her feet and put her hand out to help him up. "Come on, let's get you to the first aid station and put something on those welts," she said with a slight laugh.

He looked at her hand with apprehension for a moment, "Why'd you do that, anyway? That _really_ hurt! It _still_ hurts!"

"Heh... I've been looking for a way to get you back for trashing my Queadluun in that dogfight so many months ago. Considering the circumstances, I can't think of a more appropriate way to exact my revenge," she replied with a wink.

"What a strange way to express your feelings, but... whatever works, I guess. It's weird how this encounter really did turn out to be a repeat of the past." He grabbed her hand so she could help him up to his feet. Standing there dusting himself off and rubbing a couple of the sore spots on his body, he turned to Klan with yet another question, "What made you change your mind, anyway?"

Klan looked away and off into the distance, sighing before she answered, "I realized that I couldn't stand the thought of seeing you with another woman. Watching you flirting with all of those other girls today, I couldn't help but feel jealousy festering inside of me."

"I don't think that's a good thing, Klan."

"No, it's okay. You were right. You didn't belong to me; you had every right to do whatever you wanted... especially considering the fact that you had offered your commitment to me in the past. I was stupid to turn you down, and the very moment I realized that I had made a mistake, I immediately sought to rectify it. I couldn't let you get away from me..." She stood still as she reflected on her own words, staring out towards the meadow a couple dozen meters away. Without hearing a sound, she felt Cal grab her to pick her up off of her feet. "Agh!"

"Don't worry. I won't let you lose me, either," he said, looking straight into her eyes with a satisfied smile. After a moment, he pulled her closer to kiss her on the forehead.

…

Most of the buzz at the pavilion had died down after some time. Everyone had pretty much returned to their usual activities. The only thing left to do was to start the announcements that Ozma had spoken of before the paintball match started. The ship's command staff gathered together at one corner of the pavilion to go over the agenda.

Will was sitting at one of the tables outside with his drink in hand, looking up at the sky. One of Aimo's moons was directly overhead in the early evening sky. Since the Coral star was approaching the horizon, the details of the satellite's surface was beginning to clear up. Will imagined that he was out in space in his Valkyrie, exploring the soft, dusty terrain of the moon above his head. His daydream was quickly grounded by Nene's voice.

"There they are!" she blurted out as she hopped up from her seat to run down the hill leading to the paintball course. Halfway there, she stopped and pulled out her camera to take a picture.

Cal was still carrying Klan in in his arms, but as soon as they noticed Nene's reactions, they both became slightly mortified. He put her down and they both fidgeted in embarrassment, already showing apprehension to being seen together, now that that the word was out about them.

Having filled her quota of pictures of Cal and her sister, Nene rushed up to hug Klan and then Cal. She whispered into his ear after giving him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek, "Good for you, Hon. I'm glad you got what you've been hoping for all this time."

Will put his fist in front of Cal, "Gimme some knux!" They bumped their fists together and Will decided to reward his wingman with a fresh, cold beer he had been holding in his other hand. "You did it, man! Nice job!" he exclaimed as he put his arm around Cal's shoulder to lead him back up the hill.

Ozma had just started to gather everyone's attention at the front of the pavilion, speaking into a microphone in his hand. "Alright, are we ready to start? What?" he asked of the other officers standing nearby. He nodded at Commander Choi, who was saying something to him that wasn't being broadcast on the speakers. "Oh yeah... where are those two?" he said into the microphone, "Oh, there they are!" Ozma pointed out Cal and Klan, who had just taken a seat at Pixie Team's table. "Hey, Wagner! You cost me that bottle of scotch!" Ozma smiled as he read Cal's nonverbal reaction from afar, "Look at him. He doesn't even care. I'm sure it was worth it, wasn't it? Oh, and Klan... I hate to say it, but 'I told you so'." There was scattered laughter at Ozma's remarks.

Neither of them really let Ozma's chiding bother them at all. Klan was too busy tending to Cal's welts with some cream and a handful of bandages.

"Alright, _now_ we can start," Ozma continued, "As promised, we have a long list of announcements and recognition to cover so let's cut to the chase. Be warned, there's a lot of good news and a lot of, well... _other_ news." He wanted to be careful not to refer to the less-than-positive news as "bad" news. "Okay, I'm going to start out with some announcements regarding personnel changes. We have some new pilots who will be joining the squadron. Can you guys stand up?" He waited for the new pilots to stand, including Todd. "Everyone make sure you do your best to haze- I mean _welcome_ our new pilots. Good to have you with us, guys."

They all looked a bit nervous after hearing Ozma's little Freudian slip, but quickly sat back down after Ozma moved on.

"Most of you have already met Commander Thompson, our new squadron XO. Stand up, Les."

Commander Thompson stood up and took a bow.

"He'll be leading Rabbit Team from now on. Lieutenant Berstein will still be a part of the squadron, but she'll only be deployed as deemed necessary. In the meantime, she'll continue to faithfully perform her duties in the ship's sick bay." He then turned towards the command staff's table, "Next, Commander Choi has an announcement of her own to make." Ozma stepped down from the pedestal he had been standing on and handed the mic to her. "Here you go, Sam."

She nervously got up in front of the crew and fumbled with the microphone a bit before starting her announcement. "Well..." she nervously laughed, "I feel like I have barely spent much time with you all, and yet, I'm still finding this hard to say." She stopped for a moment to organize her thoughts. "After 23 years in the NUNS, I've decided to retire." Many of the people in the crowd groaned at her announcement. "I know, I know... but I've been planning for this retirement for over a year now and the NUNS has been gracious enough to grant me my exit, even though we're still technically in a state of open war. I just want to say that it's been such an honor to serve with a crew as exemplary as you all are. I'm actually happy that I got to finish my career serving on your ship. I want to thank Captain Wilder for his warm hospitality in accommodating my needs while I served under his command." She turned to the rest of the command staff and quickly named them off, "Stephen, Ozma, good luck to you both. I know you'll both go far in your careers."

Commander Choi paused for a moment to swallow the lump forming in her throat. She finally let out a soft laugh, "I'll never forget those late night shifts on the Quarter's bridge. I thought it would be boring, but there was someone there who always made things more fun during those ungodly hours. Bobby, I'm glad I got to meet you and work with you. Thanks for all your kind words. Thank you, everybody!" After she gave the microphone back to Ozma, she walked over and gave Bobby a hug.

"Wow," Will remarked at Pixie Team's table, "I had no idea they had a thing together. I thought he only liked guys."

"I'm sure it's not what you think, Babe," Nene replied, "They probably just had a sort of 'kindred spirits' thing going between each other. Besides, she's, like, at least 15 years older than he is."

"You're probably right. But just because she's older, doesn't mean-" he stopped mid-sentence when he realized that everyone at the table was looking at him kinda strangely. "What? I'm just saying, that's all..."

"Wow, 23 years..." Ozma remarked, looking at Commander Choi with a bit of awe, "Everyone, give her a hand. She's devoted most of her adult life to the service." He waited for everyone to give her some laudatory applause before moving on. "Okay, that means that we now have an opening in the command staff. Which brings me to our next announcement." He looked at Captain Wilder with a grin. "I think I'll let our Captain handle this one."

Still in his beach bum gear sans the straw hat, the good Captain took center stage. "Thankfully, I didn't have to look too far to find a replacement- Er, um..." he laughed nervously, "Sorry, I'm not saying that you're easy to replace, Sam..." He looked over to where she was sitting for a response.

A few laughs came from the crowd while Commander Choi nodded with a smile, forgiving Captain Wilder for his little misstatement.

"What I _meant_ to say is that we were able to cultivate and grow one of our own to take on the new position. I'm sure many of you have already guessed it by now, so it's my pleasure to officially announce that Monica Lang will serve as the ship's newest member of the command staff. Come on up here, Hon," he declared. He held out his hands to tell everyone to hold their applause for a moment, "I want to also mention that Lieutenant Wentz was also training for her promotion, but alas, it seems that we started on your training a little too late. We couldn't get you squeezed in for that session of round-table interviews, so we'll have to get you into the next one."

He looked in Jen's direction for a response, to which, she replied with a silent nod of approval and mouthed the words, "I know."

Monica strolled to the front of the pavilion to accept her promotion. Since she had confidence in her step, it was safe to assume that she already knew about it beforehand. While the crew applauded in congratulations, she accepted the small box containing her new rank insignia from Captain Wilder and then gave him a seemingly more-than-friendly hug.

"See?" Will remarked as he watched the Captain and Monica interacting with each other, "Nobody says anything about those two, and he's _way_ older than she is." Apparently, he wasn't going to let the subject just slide.

"Ugh," Nene sighed, "You assume too much, Hon. They also have a very close friendship with each other. I'm sure it's nothing more than that." She reached over with her hand and playfully mussed up his hair, "At least you've got good looks on your side; your intuition about these kinds of things is certainly misguided, sweetheart."

Before Will could produce a retort to Nene's playful banter, Cal interjected with his own opinion, "I don't know, Nene. I'm going to have to take Will's side on this... you see how they are when they're together..." He was sitting sideways in his chair, hunched forward with his shirt off while Klan applied cream and bandages onto his bruised back. "I haven't known them for as long as you guys have, but you have to wonder... It's rare that you see them apart from each other when they're off duty. You can't deny the rumors that have been endlessly floating around the ship about them. _Someone_ had to see something that tipped them off, and if it was, it'd have to be one of the Gossip Crew on the bridge. That's not something they'd just make up for kicks." He paused for a moment, briefly wincing his face at the sensations on his back. "I wouldn't completely dismiss Will's intuitions there, Nene... you have to admit, there's a lot of evidence to support his supposition."

Will gestured his open hand towards Cal to emphasize his agreement, "Thank you! Exactly...!"

Nene simply scoffed and turned her attention back towards the front of the pavilion. They hadn't been paying much attention during the last couple of minutes and it seemed that Ozma was about to take back his emcee duties from the Captain.

"Okay, you can put your shirt on," Klan said as she gave Cal a firm pat on the back. She then smiled with a wry grin, "Do you want me to get the ones on your butt too?"

Cal turned around and snatched the packet of cream from her hand. "_No_, I'll take care of that myself, thanks." After putting his shirt back on, he playfully leaned backwards and turned his head to look at her from the sides of his eyes, "I bet you didn't think you'd be getting my shirt off already, huh?"

"I wasn't planning on stopping there, though!" she softly replied, still wearing the same grin. They both laughed to each other while she put her arms around his neck, inviting him to continue laying against her while they paid attention to Ozma at the front of the room.

"Okay, the next item on the agenda promises to be a fun one," he said as he walked over to the officer's table. The boxes that Commander Ortiz had brought with him became the focus of Ozma's attention and he gently patted them as he continued, "It's time for some awards and recognition. We're going to handle this in two phases... I'll do the honors for my pilots first, and then Captain Wilder and Commander Ortiz will handle the crew." He paused for a moment to let everyone quietly clamor with each other. "Okay, I need the following pilots to come on up here..." With each name, he paused before reading the next, "Garrett! Patterson! Wagner!"

As the three pilots gathered up at the front of the room next to Ozma, they each wore apprehensive looks on their faces. Once he started to speak, Ozma paced back and forth in front of the three pilots who were now standing at attention. "I'm going to start out by saying that each and every one of you is trained and prepared to handle the most stressful and dangerous situations imaginable in combat," he said in reference to all of the soldiers in the pavilion, "All of you constantly endure extreme levels of stress and nobody can tell you otherwise." He then looked at the three pilots standing at attention near him, "However, some of us are able to go above and beyond that call of duty, putting the lives of our compatriots ahead of our own."

As expected, neither of the three pilots were sure of whom Ozma was referring. Maybe it was all three of them?

Ozma quickly removed all forms of doubt from their minds. "Ensign Patterson, like any other soldier, performed his duties in combat without hesitation," he said as he put his hand on the pilot's shoulder, "However, during our last battle in the Kihnes Asteroid Belt, he and his team leader, Kanaria, faced utter annihilation from a Vajra carrier's beam cannon assault. Since he was flying a Super VF-25G, he had more than enough speed and agility to escape harm on his own. Instead of saving his own life, he chose to stay behind to help his team leader move out of harm's way. Kanaria's Monster is far from agile and she surely would have perished, had he not placed his life in more danger than it already was at that point. He used his own VF to help propel the lumbering beast that is the Monster, out of the line of fire. In the process, his own bird was destroyed by the artillery blast, but he survived and continued to assist Kanaria by helping tend to her injuries."

The term "injuries" was definitely a euphemism to keep Kanaria's breakdown a secret from the rest of the crew; A favor that she would no doubt appreciate from Ozma for a long time to come.

"Ensign Patterson," he said as he opened the box now in his hand, "for demonstrating gallantry above-and-beyond the call of duty, I hereby award you with the New U.N. Spacy Silver Star." He proudly pinned the medal on Patterson's sweater. Even though it wasn't any sort of regulation NUNS uniform, it still looked damn good to every soldier there.

As everyone cheered and applauded him, Ensign Patterson received personal adulation from Ozma, Captain Wilder, and Will and Cal; each of them shaking his hand and offering a short sound bite of congratulations. Ensign Patterson turned to the crowd to find Kanaria, who was standing up next to her family and she acknowledged him by nodding and holding her drink up in the air.

Ozma let the excitement die down a little bit before continuing with his recognition, "Wow... I can't believe how proud I am to get to award one of those to one of my own pilots..." He took a deep breath and laughed a bit at himself. "Okay. I don't have any medals for either of you two, unfortunately," he said as he looked at Cal and Will, "but I have the next best thing for all three of you." He picked out two more boxes and walked back over to Ensign Patterson.

"Ensign Patterson, you're getting the full treatment today, son," he said as he opened one of the boxes in his hand. "The NUNS, Captain Wilder, and I have all seen it fit for you to be promoted to the rank of second lieutenant. Congratulations." Rather than pinning the rank insignia on his sweater, Ozma handed the opened box to Patterson so he could have a gaze at his new adornments.

Will was next in line. "Ensign Garrett, we have also seen it fit for you to be promoted to the rank of second lieutenant. Congratulations."

Will beamed with pride as he accepted his promotion from Ozma. He noticed Nene out of the corner of his eye, behind Ozma, knelt down to take pictures. There was no way she would miss this photographic opportunity. Although he knew his picture was being taken, he had absolutely no issues with smiling for the occasion. "Sir," he said as he pointed behind Ozma to get him to see Nene.

Ozma reacted by smiling and posing with Will, still shaking his hand for the picture.

Nene took several photos and after quickly looking them over on the camera, she gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up to them both and excitedly skipped back to her seat.

"Okay," Ozma said with a sigh as he walked over to Cal, "Wagner, you already got promoted right before we came back to Aimo. I just wanted to bring you up here to let everyone know in a more official setting." Ozma laughed a bit as he realized that he didn't actually have anything to give to Cal, aside from a handshake. "So, Wagner here is now a _first_ lieutenant, everyone. Congratulations."

Cal nervously laughed as he shook hands with Ozma. "Whew!" he exclaimed into the nearby microphone in Ozma's other hand, "For a second there, I thought I was getting promoted _again_!" He and Ozma laughed, while more laughter came from various crew members in the crowd.

Once again, Nene had taken up position to snap some more photos of the exchange between Ozma and Cal. It wasn't quite as significant as her dear Will's promotion, but it was important nonetheless.

Ozma turned to her after letting go of Cal's hand, "Nene, that means your squad is a little heavy on the lieutenants! I may need to take one of them away from you to make things a little more fair for the rest of the squadron. Do you have any preference on which one I should take?"

"That one!" she replied, pointing directly at Will, "he's the more useless one of the two, so take him." Upon seeing Will's frustrated expression, she immediately followed up her reply with a wink and blew him a kiss.

Ozma took the brief moments during this time to relay some information to Cal, putting the microphone down to his waist. "Cal, I need you to go talk to Cathy," he said, using his free hand to point over his shoulder with his thumb, "She needs to speak with you in private about an important matter."

Cal showed some apprehension before acknowledging with a nod. Of course, he had no idea why Cathy would need to talk to him, but he'd surely find out the answer to that in a short while.

"Alright," Ozma opened back up on the microphone, "Congratulations to all of you. You deserve it!" He amicably dismissed the three pilots so that they could go back to their respective seats in the pavilion. The rest of the command staff made sure to give their congratulations to the pilots before letting them pass by. "I'm going to go ahead and hand this back to Captain Wilder and Commander Ortiz so that they can take care of the crew business."

While that exchange occurred, Cal quietly stood by as he watched Nene do her usual thing with Will. He was momentarily distracted by their interactions and suddenly felt a gentle grasp around his torso.

Klan put her arm around him and tugged at his shirt to get him to lean down towards her face, "What did Ozma say to you back there?"

"He wanted me to go talk to Cathy, for some reason. I wonder what's up?" he replied as he visually located Cathy sitting alone at a table towards the back of the room. She had her eyes intently fixed upon him, as if she was waiting for him. Her hands were neatly folded together and rested on the table in front of her.

Klan let go of him and saw Cathy as well. "Oh. I have no idea. Go on, then," she ushered him away with a gentle push with her hand. She wore one of her trademark gazes as she watched Cal walk away. It wasn't jealousy that was overcoming her, it was that intuition of hers that crops up when something seems out of place. She quickly began to pore over the possible explanations in her mind.

While Captain Wilder and Commander Ortiz handed out awards and recognition to the ship's crew, Klan spent her time watching the exchange between Cal and Cathy on the other side of the room. She had situated herself so it looked like she was watching the ceremonies in the front of the pavilion, but she was constantly looking at them from the corner of her eye.

Cal appeared to momentarily look at something being displayed on Cathy's digital tablet, following it up with a nod. They immediately engaged in a conversation, probably concerning whatever was on her tablet. Their exchange took about twenty minutes before they both stood up from their seats. They saluted each other before Cal walked away and back towards the Pixie Team table.

Coincidentally, Captain Wilder and Commander Ortiz had finished up their awards ceremony at the same time and the crowd began to applaud the recipients still proudly standing up at the front of the pavilion. Just as the applause began to die down, Cal took his seat once more next to Klan.

"What was that all about?" she asked of him.

Cal could only shake his head as he answered, "Sorry, I can't talk about it yet." A heavy sigh followed his response, causing her to take notice of the slight hint of distress in his emotional state.

"Alright, everyone!" Ozma blared out through the microphone in his hands again. He made sure everyone was paying attention to him before he spoke again, "Once again, congratulations to all of the recipients." He then put a more serious look on his face, "Well, I hope that you guys have all had a good time today. We've certainly gotten our fill of R&R over the last few weeks, but as the saying goes, 'all good things must come to an end.'"

Almost immediately, the crew and pilots of the Macross Quarter could easily guess at the next announcement. Several groans and clicks of the tongue began to sound from the crowd.

"It's time to return to duty, folks," Ozma said with a slightly heavy heart, "We've got new deployment orders and we have a lot of work to do in preparation for our departure. I'm told that we are tentatively scheduled to leave Aimo in ten days. That means we're all to report for duty starting Tuesday to begin our preparations." He let everyone clamor with each other for a minute before taking back their attention, "I can't divulge any of the mission's objectives, but I can say that if things go well for us, we'll be coming back home _very_ soon."

Some of the worry was successfully lifted from the minds of the crew and pilots, but it was only temporary. "I'm also obliged to report some other good-slash-bad news." Ozma hung his head for a moment, "This is going to be my last mission serving as the commander of Skull Squadron, and as a member of the crew of the Quarter." He stopped speaking for a moment as he waved Cathy to come stand next to him while he gave his somber announcement. The crew, especially the pilots began to groan in disapproval.

As soon as Cathy reached his side, he put his arm around her waist to hold her close to him. "I've accepted a new position as a flight instructor here on Aimo." Upon hearing about his new position, the crowd quieted down a bit; this wasn't as bad as they had originally thought. "The NUNS is establishing a school to teach special operations pilots everything they need to know about the VF-25 and I'm going to serve as the school's commandant. When Cathy initially mentioned it to me, I was reluctant to consider transferring. However, after some soul-searching, I realized that this was an opportunity I just couldn't pass up. After all, it would be nice to be able to stick around here a little more..."

Ozma trailed off as he looked at Cathy with a smile, holding her closer to his body. "...Which leads me to my next big announcement: Cathy and I are now engaged to be married." They both held out their hands to show their engagement rings to the crew in front of them. They couldn't have looked any happier to make their announcement.

Predictably, everyone erupted in cheer and applause at the big announcement. Several people loudly whistled to cheer the news. Ranka managed to dash out of the crowd and leap at Ozma and Cathy to give them both a big hug; this was something she had been looking forward to for a few months now.

"We haven't set any kind of date yet," Ozma continued with a laugh as he stumbled from Ranka's hug, "but I'm sure something will happen after we get back from our mission. Oh! And you're all invited to the wedding!"

Cathy grabbed his hand, the one holding the microphone, and pulled it closer to her mouth, "So, you guys need to make sure he comes back. I'd appreciate that a lot." It was a simple request to which the entire crew was happy to oblige.

Ozma took his hand back and answered the next question that was bouncing around in everyone's heads at that point, "We haven't lined up a replacement for me, yet. That's another thing that will probably have to happen after we get back. So, until then, let's all focus on the mission at hand. You will all be briefed on the details after we leave the planet, so I don't want to hear anyone asking for hints."

After a short pause, Ozma looked towards the other officers. "Okay, is that everything? Did we cover everything we needed?" He got a short answer from Captain Wilder and turned back to the rest of the crew, "Okay, that's all! You guys are free to do whatever you want, now. Thanks to everyone for coming! I hope you all had fun and we'll see you all on the Quarter on Tuesday." Ozma and the rest of the command staff eagerly waved off their crew and everyone began to intermingle to visit each other before heading home.

The now-Lieutenant Patterson made a bee-line over to Kanaria's table to personally thank her for her recommendation; a gesture that was incomparable to his act of heroism many weeks earlier. He was immediately stopped by her husband, who offered his hand for a shake.

"Thank you," he simply said as he looked directly into Lieutenant Patterson's eyes and shook his hand, "I want to ask you another favor... make sure she gets back home alive for me, okay?"

"Dad..." A young voice rang out from next to him.

"Oh, for _us_. Bring her back home alive for us."

Lieutenant Patterson was surprised at the personal request, but he had no problems with it. "You got it."

Kanaria's son, Eddie, also had some words to say to the pilot that was responsible for saving his mother's life. "Here," he said as he handed the Lieutenant a sheet of paper, "I made this for you." It had a rather well-drawn picture of his VF-25G posing in battroid mode with its Dragunov rifle in its manipulators. The words "Thanks for saving my mom" were written in a snazzy font above the picture.

Lieutenant Patterson bent over and looked over the picture with a bit of awe in his face. "Wow! This is really good! Did you draw it yourself?" He had to hide the fact that the words written on the page were actually invoking an emotional response within him. Suddenly, there was an almost-tangible value placed on his heroic act; he had helped reunite a young child with his mother.

Eddie bashfully nodded. "I have a bunch of models of the VF-25G. It's my favorite Valkyrie!"

"Looks like you have a big fan now," Kanaria finally interjected with a laugh.

Patterson stood back up again, still holding the drawing in his hand. "I wanted to thank you for recommending me for this medal."

Kanaria shook her head. "No, you _earned_ it. We're all grateful for what you did. I wish there was something more we could do to show our gratitude."

Patterson looked at the picture in his hand and then down at his shirt where his medal still hung. "I don't know," he said with an amused smile, "I can't tell which one I like better!" They all laughed at his response. Even if it wasn't completely sincere, his level of humility was rarely seen in a pilot.

Somewhere nearby, Klan checked the time on her cell phone. "Perfect timing," she casually mentioned, "Listen guys, I have to get going. I have to report for duty at the base in a little bit." She got up and started to gather her belongings from the table.

Without a word, Cal got up from his seat and stood next to her, as if he was waiting.

"We sure are glad you came," Nene said with a slight chuckle, "It looks like _someone_ is infinitely more grateful you came too!" She looked directly at Cal and saw him roll his eyes at her remark.

"Hmph..." Klan replied, wearing a smile on her face. She hurriedly put her things into her bag and turned around to see Cal standing nearby.

"C'mon," he said to her, "I'll walk you over to the shuttle's loading zone."

Just as Klan smiled in acknowledgment, Nene spoke up to her sister, "Don't you two go and disappear for a few days, now. We need to gather up as a quartet again and do something fun together before we leave on deployment."

"What about me?" Todd interjected from seemingly out of nowhere.

Nobody wanted to answer him, looking at him as if he didn't even matter.

"I'll call you guys when we come up with something," Nene continued after turning back towards Cal and Klan.

They nodded before turning away to walk out of the pavilion. After a few steps, Cal looked to his side at Klan, "Is it just me, or does it feel like a huge weight's been lifted off of my shoulders?"

Klan looked back at him to respond, "I was wondering the same thing, too. It feels so much better now..."

Will and Nene watched as Cal and Klan walked away, each with one of their arms around the other's torso. Will turned to Nene to see the look of excitement on her face. "Yes! Mission accomplished!" He put his hand up in the air to give her a high-five. "Kudos all around!"

Nene slapped her hand against his and giggled with glee. "So, what do you want to do tonight to celebrate our success?" she asked as she snuggled up to his shoulder.

Will put on a mischievous smile. "Oh, I can think of a few fun activities..."

* * *

A/N: Great! Now that that's out of the way, I do appreciate feedback. However, do me a huge favor: if you want to leave a review on the site with your thoughts on this chapter, try not to put anything that will spoil this chapter for any new readers that come along. If you have specific things you'd like to share with me, please feel free to e-mail me with your thoughts (frothymug at aol dot com). I very much enjoy hearing from all of you and would appreciate your opinions. -FM


	49. Off on a Good Foot

A/N: School's been keeping me pretty busy. Unfortunately, I've found another game to take up some of my free time. Dungeon Defenders is everything I'd hoped it would be, since I've been eagerly waiting for it to come out for a couple of months. I'm not gonna go into any details, but check it out. It's available on all platforms, including iOS! I'm pretty much past the "honeymoon phase" now, so I'll be using more of my free time to write.

I got to watch the 2nd Frontier movie this weekend WITH subtitles. Again, the wait was well worth it. I liked the movie overall, but the ending was a little "meh". One thing that jumped out at me was that there were things in the movie that I've actually written into this very story! I was a little miffed about it, but as they say, "great minds think alike". All throughout this wait, I was hoping that the movie wouldn't turn out to have too many similarities to my story, both already-written material and material that I have planned for the future. I think my planned ending is still in no danger of being too similar to the movie's ending. Again, if you see something in this story that was in the movie, it probably will be coincidental. I didn't see anything in the movie that I really wanted to use in this story, so just take my word for it there. ;)

Anyway, this chapter went a little long, but that just means more material for you to read. I finished the first draft of Chapter 50 last night and hope to start working on 51 sometime this week. Until next update...! -(10/30/11)

* * *

During the early morning period where the night sky begins to turn from charcoal black to deep violet, only the most ambitious of citizens are out of their homes and already working to accomplish their goals for the day. But even they rely on someone else to prepare their choice of breakfast for them, since they seem to be too busy to do it themselves. Part of the morning commute frequently involves a visit to the local coffee brewery or doughnut shop to fill up on caffeine and pastries before another hard day of work.

One particular shop, strategically located near a busy intersection, readied for the early morning commuter rush. Although there was not yet a lot of vehicle traffic nor pedestrian traffic, the lights were on inside of the kitchen area behind the front counter. The "open" sign was not yet illuminated and the customer lobby lighting was also off.

Despite this fact, a luxury sedan casually pulled into the empty customer parking lot and quickly occupied one of the handful of spaces adjacent to the building. After a moment, a lone figure emerged from the driver's side, wearing a heavy coat, a hat, and a loose scarf. Instead of proceeding to the shop door around the corner, the character chose to remain in the poorly-lit lot, pulling his coat sleeve back to check the time on his watch. He slowly walked over to the building's wall near his car and reached into his pocket. He clutched a pack of cigarettes in his hand after drawing it out from the coat's pocket, a lighter wedged between two of his fingers. It took several shakes of the package before a lone cigarette fell into his other hand. "Tch... dammit..." he mumbled under his breath. He sighed, crumbled up the empty wrapper, and chucked it at the nearby dumpster with an overhand throw. Without even looking to see if his throw hit its mark, he lit up the cigarette, cupping his hand over the flame to keep the cold breeze from blowing it out. The initial inhalation seemed to be purposely drawn out over the course of a few seconds, before he finally exhaled and leaned against the wall in a relaxed pose. He checked the time once more.

Suddenly, the shrill ringing sound of a phone coincided with the watch turning to 5:00 AM. The shadowy figure lifted his hand to his mouth to take another drag of the cigarette between his fingers. He exhaled and put his hand back down at his side, the smoke quickly dissipating into the air in front of him. He allowed the phone to continue ringing for a few seconds, before it abruptly stopped.

"Go ahead..." His voice seemed unnatural; there was an echo-like, monotonous tone to it. However, his lips weren't even moving and both of his hands were at his sides.

"What is your situation?" another similar, monotonic voice replied, "Her Eminence requests a progress report."

"My team has met each milestone set out in the plan. As of right now, we're on schedule."

"I need you to accelerate that schedule," came the curt reply, "Her Eminence is concerned that our location might be compromised before Her preparations are complete. The encounter in the Kihnes Asteroid Belt has been deemed a major setback to the overall plan. Their fleet was supposed to have been wiped out, but a large percentage still remains. Now, they are spreading out to search for our position with great zeal."

"Understood. We'll do our best to step up the pace."

"Remember, that your job is to help make sure that they don't find us before we're ready; do whatever it takes. If you succeed, She will keep Her promise of granting you eternal life, freed from the bonds of your mortal shell."

Several moments of silence passed by. It seemed that he was taking in the thought of such a grand offer. "What of the songstresses, Code Fairy-9 and Code Q-1?"

"They are of no use to us. If the opportunity arises, dispose of them. They both pose a significant threat to us. However, do not lose sight of the main objective."

"Roger that. Unfortunately, I think it's best we end this transmission before it gets eavesdropped. Their counter-intelligence units are extremely competent."

"Don't fail Her." The response was short and straightforward.

The silhouette slowly emerged from the alleyway, stopping just at the edge of the light shining through the window from his left. The customer lobby lights were now on, and the "Open" sign cast its digital hues out onto the street. Only part of his clothes and the tips of his shoes became illuminated, still hiding his identity in the darkness. The smoldering cigarette suddenly fell to the ground; its appearance featured a pair of gold stripes around the filter paper. It was no match for the underside of his shoe, as he ground it into the pavement with a quick, pivoting movement centered on his toes. Two figures, who had been standing nearby, approached him from his right side; their feet stopping right next to his.

"What did they say?" one of the two other men asked.

"We need to pick up the pace." His voice now sounded normal, not so monotonic this time.

"Oh... Did you tell them about the little setback we just had?"

"No, and they don't need to know. Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it myself." There was an obvious hint of annoyance in his voice.

"What next, then?"

"First, we're gonna get some breakfast..." came the reply. It seemed as though he was referring to the doughnut shop right next to them. "...Then, I need to get another pack of cigarettes."

"Why do you smoke those things? They can't be good for your body."

"Once we're done here, we're not gonna _need_ these bodies anymore. I might as well indulge in a little bit of reckless hedonism while I can."

"Good point."

Their feet quickly moved out of view, leaving the smashed cigarette butt on the pavement; the distinct gold-stripe pattern on the wrapping paper was still visible. The entrance bell on the door to the nearby doughnut shop chimed, signaling their entrance.

…

Right about the same time on the outskirts of the city, Ozma emerged from his bedroom, dressed in uniform. A backpack hung from his shoulder by one strap as he quietly tiptoed down the hall towards the stairs. Even though he was taking care to remain quiet at this early hour of the morning, he stopped at the top of the stairs to think to himself for a brief moment. He pulled his sleeve away from his wrist to check the time on his watch and quickly put his arm back down to his side. After another moment of reflection, he turned his head back to look at the door to his guest bedroom, soon turning the rest of his body in line with his view.

The door to the guest room was shut. Ozma approached it and raised his fist up to give it a good knock, but he stopped himself short of making contact with the door. Holding this pose for a moment, he soon changed his mind before he made his presence known. He put his hand down and went back towards the stairs, shaking his head in apparent disappointment.

Downstairs, he took a brief moment to admire the clean and organized state of his living room. He then turned the lights off and noticed a light shining under the door leading to his garage and his beloved Lancia Delta. As he briefly wondered whether or not he'd remembered to turn off the light the night before, he heard something metallic clanging on the hard pavement on the other side of the door. Suddenly, his worst fears quickly ran through his mind and he made a dash for the garage.

As the door flew open, an exasperated Ozma hung from the knob, having stumbled down the two steps leading to ground-level in the garage. His car appeared to be untouched and unharmed and he quickly regained his composure.

Cal suddenly appeared from behind the car, rolling into view using the mechanic's creeper upon which he was sitting. The wheels made a slight squeaking noise and he stopped himself with his feet. "Hey, Ozma!" he greeted. His hands had several dark stains on them and there were a couple of spots of grease on his face, probably from when he accidentally touched it with dirty hands. He held an opened oil can in between his legs on the creeper.

Following a sigh of relief, Ozma walked around to the other side of the car to see what Cal was doing. "You gave me a good scare, there. I thought someone was trying to get their hands on my car." He stopped a few feet away when he saw that his scooter's motor housing was dismantled. "What are you doing?"

"I've been putting a lot of miles on this baby. I figured she was overdue for a re-lubing." Cal used his feet to roll himself and the creeper back next to the scooter. "I took it to have its tires replaced, too," he said as he started to pour the lubricant from the can and into a funnel seated in the engine, "Looks like you've had it sitting in storage for quite some time. She just needs a little bit of work and she'll look like new again." He wiggled the inverted can to shake the last few drops out, before removing the funnel and screwing the cap back onto the engine block.

Ozma smiled at the fact that Cal was so eager to take care of the scooter. "I thought you were still asleep, since your door was closed. I almost knocked to wake you up. Don't you have an early-morning meeting with Cathy?"

"Yeah, but I wanted to get this done. I couldn't sleep anyways. There's so much on my mind right now..." Something clicked in his head and he turned his head to look back at Ozma. "How come you didn't knock on my door earlier?"

"Well... I was kind of hoping that you would get yourself back on track on your own. You'd been sleeping in so much lately and I didn't want you to miss your appointment." Ozma smirked and looked away. "Then I realized the possibility that you might have Klan in there with you..." he said with a slight laugh, "That would have been pretty awkward."

Cal didn't really laugh, though. He simply raised one eyebrow, as if he was trying to figure out why something so asinine would come out of Ozma's mouth. "I wouldn't do something like that in your house. I kinda consider it to be disrespectful. Besides, I haven't seen her since she left the picnic yesterday afternoon." He turned back to finish putting the cowl back over the engine on the scooter.

"That's okay, Cal; I don't mind, really. _Mi casa es su casa_...!"

Cal sighed upon hearing Ozma's response. "Well, we'll see, I guess... Somehow, I doubt we'll be seeing much of each other for the time being. Looks like I'm going to be very busy until we ship off and I'm sure she will be too."

"Are you guys gonna be okay with that?"

The engine cover snapped back into place with a loud "click". Cal reached down to pick up a soiled rag and wiped his hands as he stood up from the creeper, turning back towards Ozma. A confident smile appeared on his face. "Honestly, I'm happy with the fact that we're in complete understanding of each other. We'll find time to spend together eventually... Until then, we both understand that we lead separate lives and that some things are more important right now."

Ozma stared blankly at Cal following the response, as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"...but yeah, I do miss her already..." Cal concluded with a laugh.

"There you go." Ozma smirked to himself as he reached over to the wall and punched the button to the garage door opener. He then opened the driver's side door and tossed his backpack into the backseat. He put his arm on top of the car and rested his chin there for a moment; a pensive look appeared on his face. "Cal," he said, waiting for a response.

"Hm?"

"When we get back from our mission, you can keep the scooter."

"Oh, that's okay, Ozma, I -"

"Just -" Ozma interjected, lifting his hand to hush Cal from responding, "I'm not going to need it and you've shown that you are willing to take care of it." He chuckled to himself before he continued, "It was my primary mode of transportation when I first joined the Frontier fleet, but then I never used it after I bought my baby, here." He gently stroked the glossy surface of his car's body. "I was going to let Ranka have it when she turned 16, but now that she's a big celebrity, she won't be needing it, either."

Cal had a slightly surprised look on his face as he scanned the scooter with his eyes. He hadn't really thought about the fact that it almost belonged to a famous singer. Then he realized that he'd already met her and had conversations with her. It wasn't _that_ big of a deal, all of a sudden. "Well, thanks, Ozma!" he replied with a smile.

Ozma left his car door open and walked over to one of the closed cabinets lining the garage wall. "As a matter of fact, I had bought a new helmet for her to use," he said as he rummaged through the items inside of the cabinet, "Obviously, that scooter is built to seat two people. I figure, since you and Klan are going to be hanging out, whenever that may be, it would be nice to get to drive her around." He laughed to his own remarks as he pulled out a cardboard box with graphic markings of a safety helmet printed on the sides. "It's kind of hard to impress women when you can't drive them to your date together."

Cal accepted the box, briefly looking at the pictures on its sides before looking back up at Ozma. He was surprised at another sudden display of generosity from his commanding officer.

"When she's in her miclone form, Klan is fairly close to Ranka's size. This helmet should fit her just fine." Ozma turned his head and nodded in the direction of the cabinet from which he had just retrieved the box. "There are several accessories for the scooter in there. There's even an attachable mount for the extra helmet, so you can carry it around with you when you two are not riding together." He had made his way back to the driver's side of his car as he spoke, stopping just before he sat down inside.

"Gee, I don't know how to thank you for all of this..."

"Then don't," Ozma said with a smirk on his face. He already understood what Cal was wanting to say and didn't want to let things get too mushy. "Listen, I gotta get going. I'll see you later."

Cal took notice of Ozma in full uniform, inquiring about the occasion, "Are you reporting for duty already?"

"Yep! While you guys have a couple of days left off-duty, we've got things to take care of. I've got a meeting with the Captain and the rest of the command staff on the Quarter this morning."

Suddenly, the thought of a meeting reminded Cal of his pending rendezvous with Cathy at her office. He placed the box containing the new helmet on the counter, next to his own helmet and goggles. "Oh yeah... I'd better go get ready, too..." Just as he said that, his phone chimed with an incoming text message. He quickly reached over to grab his phone off of the tabletop with a anticipation.

Ozma had a feeling of the nature of the text message, judging by Cal's reaction. "That her?"

Instead of replying, Cal just smiled and nodded as he looked at the screen. He quickly began typing on the screen to reply to the text, before placing it into his pocket and heading to the door leading into the house.

Ozma laughed to himself as he finally sat into the driver's seat of his car. The engine quickly turned over and hummed with mechanical precision underneath the hood. He poked his head out of the window to say one more thing, "Good luck out there, today."

"You too, Sir," Cal responded as he stopped next to the door. He reached up to the garage door opener button on the wall, waiting for Ozma to move his car out onto the driveway. As the Lancia Delta began to back out, Cal casually saluted Ozma with two of his fingers, receiving a similar gesture in return. The garage door quickly sealed the cold winter air outside once more.

…

The Zentraedi starport outside of Laplamiz was just getting its first kiss of sunlight as the Coral star began to peek over the side of the nearby mountain. The Eksidos, firmly cradled in one of the dry-docks on the base, was blanketed with scaffolding. Dozens of Zentraedi workers toiled away on the hull of the capital ship, but the nature of the overall project was difficult to determine at a glance.

On the side of the ship, one of the hangar doors remained wide-open, exposing the rows of craft inside. A large ramp connected the hangar deck with that of the dry-dock. A small stream of incoming and outgoing Zentraedi personnel took up a small portion of the ramp, while heavy machinery and craft moved back and forth on the rest of the ramp. Several human-piloted Work Destroids were busy loading supplies into the ship's hangar.

Among the personnel moving off of the ship, Klan paid little attention to those around her. Her focus was set on the phone in her hands; she appeared to be reading something displayed on its screen. She only needed her peripheral vision to make sure she didn't bump into anyone else in front of or beside her. Just as she finished typing a message, she felt a familiar presence next to her.

"Hey, Commander!" Jormun, the ship's first officer and her former upper-classman, casually strolled next to her, as if he'd been there the all along. His uniform still showed prominent creases on it. No doubt, his appearance was very important to him at all times. "Texting at this time in the morning?"

Klan managed to resist the urge to sigh out of annoyance. Although Jormun was being a bit nosy, she still managed to turn to him and flash a smile, "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason... Just my miserable attempt at making small-talk," he replied with a nervous laugh. He paused for a moment as he noticed that she was actually smiling. "You've been in a good mood all night. You're walking with an extra bounce in your step, too. What's the occasion?"

There was no way that Klan was going to spill the beans to this guy. A vague, but amicable response should be all he needs. She looked up at the early morning sky as she responded, "Let's just say that things have been going my way lately. It's a good time to be alive...!"

"Wow!" Jormun replied with a laugh, "That response is totally unlike you..."

At this point, she had not yet realized that her disposition had literally changed overnight. It didn't take long for her to figure out what the cause was, though. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... just deal with it."

An uncomfortable silence filled the air between them after they both chuckled to each other. The sound of the nearby soldiers' footsteps was only accompanied by the distant mechanical sounds of the destroids moving up and down the ramp.

Klan suddenly yawned out loud, breaking the relative silence after it was only a few seconds old. "I'm so tired... I can't wait to get home and crawl into bed. These late-night, last-minute meetings aren't going to be a regular thing, are they?"

"I wish I could tell you 'no', but I'd be lying." Jormun took note of the faint rings under Klan's green eyes. "Yeah, you definitely need some rest, there," he said with a nervous laugh once more, "Go home, get some sleep, and I'll see you later tonight at the next meeting." He casually waved as he increased his walking speed down the ramp. Klan simply smiled in response, but it caused Jormun to slow down again, upon seeing her reaction. "I like your new look, by the way!" His voice was partially drowned out by a passing Destroid.

Another uncomfortable silence hung in the air, but just for a brief moment this time. Klan had no idea what he was talking about and slowed her walking pace.

Jormun quickly followed up his compliment to alleviate any possible misunderstandings, "The smile." He pointed his finger at her face from his position a few feet away.

"Oh," Klan replied, sighing in relief a moment afterwards.

Jormun put on a confident smile, seeing that she now understood what he meant. "You should smile more often, Klan. It looks great on you." He quickly turned around and walked at an increased rate again, leaving Klan behind to mull over his compliment.

She began to wonder if he was hitting on her, or if he was just genuinely complimenting her. Regardless, she had to deal with the fact that someone was noticing that something was different about her. For the longest time, she's been regarded by others as an ice-queen. Perhaps this "smiling" business was a good thing; it couldn't hurt to try it out, at least.

…

"Thanks for coming on such short notice," Cathy said to Cal as she turned to look at him. They both stood in an elevator in full uniform, patiently waiting for the cab to come to a halt at the desired floor. She caught him in the middle of a yawn and smirked. "Did you not get enough sleep?"

Cal briefly felt embarrassed about his yawn. "Honestly, no. I just had a lot on my mind, that's all."

"Understandable," she replied with a friendly smile, "I hate to have to throw you into such a predicament, but we're running short on time and I need to take advantage of this opportunity." She sighed as she thought about what to say next, turning her gaze towards the polished metal doors in front of them. "I understand that you have a testing schedule to deal with at Bell-Casse. I'm sorry to have to have to put you back to work before the rest of your squadron mates. You will still have to report for duty on the Quarter in a couple of days. I'm sure you wanted to get a few things done before then, huh?" She then put a wry grin on her face and looked at Cal out of the corner of her eyes, "...and I'm sure you want to spend some time with Klan before you both head back out to space, right?"

Cal couldn't help but smirk at her last question; there was no hiding the truth from her. "That would be nice, yes." He grew silent as he briefly replayed in his mind the conversation between the two of them the previous day at the paintball park...

Cathy and Cal sat opposite from each other at one of the tables in the pavilion, while the rest of the picnic attendees paid attention to Captain Wilder and Commander Ortiz off in the distance. Nobody else was sitting near them. Satisfied with the conditions of their meeting, Cathy finally began her conversation.

"I need to talk to you about _this_," Cathy asked with a notable tone of curtness in her voice. She deftly used her finger to spin her tablet around on the table and pushed it towards Cal, who was noticeably apprehensive.

It only took a mere moment before Cal recognized himself in a video playing on the tablet's screen. He seemed to be starring in a candid video taken at the political rally the day be before the picnic. From the video's shakiness, it appeared to have been shot by someone's cell-phone camera from in the crowds. Even though the tablet's volume setting was low, the dialogue was clearly audible, revealing every word from his confrontation with the crowd and the media reporter. He slouched his posture out of embarrassment; judging from Cathy's tone of voice, he may be in a bit of trouble. "Oh, uhhmmm..." he stammered.

"My office has been getting hit with calls from various inquirers, asking for information about you and confirming whether or not you are, in fact, active in the service." Cathy looked like she was quite annoyed with the situation. Surely, she was a very busy woman and the last thing she needed was to have to handle so many incoming phone calls.

Cal felt his butt sliding forward in his seat; he must have been subconsciously trying to hide himself under the table.

"Lieutenant, you have to watch what you say and do in the public eye. When you're off-duty, you're free to do as you please, but be aware that if you misstep somewhere, people will only use that example as a broad brush with which to paint the rest of the NUNS. We can't really handle bad publicity at this point in the conflict with the Galaxy fleet. The people are becoming war-weary again and we can't afford to lose their support." She finished her brief monologue and took a deep breath. What needed to be said was now said. She quickly began to take note of Cal's deteriorating condition. "Don't worry," she said, suddenly putting an amicable smile on her face, "You're not in trouble. As a matter of fact, I see a bit of an opportunity here."

"Oh." Cal slowly sat back up in his chair and folded his hands in front of him. Still, though, he wasn't sure of where Cathy might be going with this. "I'm afraid I'm not quite following you. What did you have in mind?"

While he continued watching himself in the video playing on the tablet, Cathy answered his question. "Remember how we were talking about politics at Ozma's house just yesterday?" She waited for him to nod, despite still having his gaze directed towards the tablet. "Well, this video showed up on the colony internet last night and it's been getting a lot of views and reposts on various social networking sites." She paused until Cal looked back at her, "I think your video is becoming something of a viral nature. People seem to want to know a little more about you, including the media." A big smile had crept across her face at this point.

This was certainly unexpected news for Cal. He started to wear a confused look. "Wait, what? What did you tell them?"

"Of course, I didn't give them any of your contact information. As per proper protocol, civilians must go through the Joint Chiefs office to directly contact members of the military. I suspect what they're trying to do is to dig up as much information as they can about you... They'll especially be looking for any dirt to dig up. That way, they can use that information to discredit you as a public figure."

"But I'm not a public figure!" Cal interjected with a frown.

Cathy casually tapped on her tablet with her finger, pointing directly at his image displayed on the screen. She wore a smug smile, as if she didn't need to verbally answer his retort.

Following a heavy sigh, Cal calmly adjusted his posture in his chair. "I see your point." He paused for a moment before asking the next question, "What should I do?" He now seemed eager to hear Cathy's proposal.

"I want you to make a few public appearances at political functions in the next week before you ship out to space again. Mingle with the political pundits and maybe the occasional politician and see what happens."

"Um, what's the point of that? What good can I do?"

"I'll be honest with you; I think you have a good sense of what's wrong and what's right and you're not afraid to correct someone if you think they're wrong about something. Sometimes, your lack of tact can be a good thing. It helps you to get straight to the point. If it's one thing I can't stand about politicians, it's that they're always afraid of saying something that will upset some of their voter base and put their re-election chances in jeopardy. You have the uncanny ability of getting under peoples' skin. Ask questions, debate, get answers... _Challenge_ these people and see what makes them tick. You may be able to uncover a whole lot more about these people if you are successful."

For obvious reasons, Cal now wore a huge grin. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, feeling good about himself after hearing Cathy's compliments. "Well, that sounds pretty nice... but I'm still not sure of what the _point_of all of this is."

"Well basically, the media has done such a grand job of establishing a dogmatic view of the colony's political situation for their viewers and followers. They cherry-pick what stories they want to show their audience, and leave out any dissenting opinions. If anyone speaks up and tries to challenge their point of view, they go to great lengths to demonize that person or group, so as to discredit them and render their voices impotent in any kind of debate over the issues."

Suddenly, the stakes just got higher for Cal. "I don't know if I'd appreciate people snooping around into my past. I mean, I wasn't the perfect little boy. The fact that I didn't really have a family while growing up is not something I like to wear as a badge for everyone to see."

"There's nothing wrong with that, Cal. Lots of people in this colony grew up without a family. You could be seen as someone who's overcome adversity to become a successful, contributing member of society. What I see is your spotless military service record. You've turned yourself from a misfit teenager into a valued NUNS pilot. That's got to count for something!" She gestured with her hands, as if she was placing Cal into some kind of imaginary picture frame.

"What about Klan?" he asked, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb in her direction, "I don't want her to get involved in this. Can you promise me that she can be kept immune to their scrutiny?"

Cathy softly laughed at his request, "Cal, you know I can't _promise_ something like that..." She noticed that he was now wearing a stern look on his face. His arms were still folded, but his body language indicated his disapproval of her answer. Seeing this, she sighed and calmly placed her palms down flat on the table in front of her. "Alright, I can handle that."

He quickly replaced his previously cheerful demeanor after hearing her answer. "Great. Lay it on me, then. What do I need to do?"

Now wearing a satisfied and anxious smile, Cathy began to outline her initial plan to him. "Well, the first thing I need you to do is to come to my office in the morning..." She noticed that his eyes had momentarily glazed over, for some reason. "Cal, are you listening? Cal?"

Suddenly, he found himself back in the elevator, having lost himself in his memory for a few moments.

"Cal!" Cathy shouted, gently bumping him with her forearm.

He shook his head and looked back at her. "Sorry, I just got to thinking there for a sec. You were saying?"

She cautiously glared at him for a moment before she continued, "I'm going to set you up with a tablet of your own. This way, I can directly communicate with you if needed. Since nobody will know that it's yours, it enables you to use the internet without fear of being monitored. Go ahead and use it to do any research, planning, and preparation you might need."

The elevator reached its destination and the doors opened, accompanied by an electronic chime. When they passed over the threshold, Cal immediately took note of the towering view from the nearby window. Morning sunlight filled the foyer, giving the area a very lively atmosphere. He trailed behind Cathy by a few feet, feeling somewhat out-of-place in the room.

She bid a "good morning" to the worker at the front desk near a locked door before sliding her ID card through the slot and entering a short PIN number on the keypad. The device beeped with a positive tone and the light turned from red to green. A faint mechanical "click" could be heard from the door jamb at the same time. She opened the door for him and bid for him to enter ahead of her.

"What is this place?" Cal asked as he looked around in wonder. They quickly passed by a section of cubicles, each of which served as a temporary home for various personnel.

"Can't really tell you any specifics," Cathy replied with a slight laugh in her voice. She made sure to walk at a hasty pace, so as to get to their ultimate destination as soon as possible. "We're just on this floor because I wanted to use one of their meeting rooms." She turned her head towards him a bit to acknowledge that he was paying attention and not looking off into the cubicles. "What we need to do is get you briefed on what you can and can't say, when it comes to issues regarding the NUNS. I'm just making sure you don't inadvertently discuss things of a sensitive matter while you're out there doing your thing." She smiled with a hint of jocularity in her expression.

"Aw, no faith?" Cal sarcastically asked.

"Sorry, Cal. I _did_ say that you can really get off the cuff sometimes. I'm just taking extra steps to ensure that you and I _both_ don't get into trouble."

As they rounded the corner of the cubicle maze, they came upon a series of large doors situated in the hall, all facing each other. Before proceeding through one of the doors, Cathy checked her tablet to make sure that she was at the correct meeting room. She opened the door and looked back at him, "In you go!"

…

Will trudged his way down the elevated path, while several full-sized Zentraedi passed him nearby. From his point of view on the miclone walkway, only their shoulders and heads could be seen above the railing, but their heavy footsteps could be felt in their entirety through the hard floor below him. He stared at the ground with his hands in his coat pockets, seemingly lost in thought when he thought he heard his name being called.

"Hi, Will!"

For some reason, he wanted to pretend that he was just hearing things.

"Will!" This time, the voice was almost booming to him.

He stopped his forward pace and looked up to see Klan staring at him from the other side of the bannister. Slightly surprised by her sudden appearance, he managed to utter a response. "Oh. Hi. I thought I was hearing things at first." He looked away from her while he was in the middle of his sentence, choosing not to continue making eye-contact.

She was still in her uniform and was using one of her arms to hold her duffel bag behind one shoulder. Since they were just around the corner from her apartment, she had a pretty good idea what he was doing in the neighborhood. "Did you just leave our place?"

He only nodded in response; a look of slight despair was fairly evident on his face.

Klan traded her smile for a more serious demeanor. "Well, what's the matter? You don't look so good." She quickly put that smile back on her face before he could even answer. "Don't worry, you guys will see each other again real soon, right? You already miss her, is that it?"

Will began to rock his torso back and forth to keep himself warm. "No, it's not that," he sighed. Looking back up at her, he decided to ask something of a cryptic question, "Why is it that women always try to make relationships more complicated than they have to be?"

Taken aback by his question, she didn't really know how to answer. "Um, what?"

"Oh. Uh, nevermind," he quickly withdrew his inquiry. He probably figured that she'd be the last person to go to for relationship advice. After all, it took her all of that time to admit her feelings for Cal, but he wasn't going to point that out to her right now. "Listen, I need to get going," he said as he started to inch his way back in the same direction he had been traveling earlier, "I'll see you later, Klan."

She gave an apprehensive wave as he turned away, but stood there for a moment to watch him leave. She put on a pensive look and grunted to herself before finishing her trip home.

Inside of the apartment, Nene was quietly perched on the couch while she watched television. She looked over at the door as soon as she heard the latch turning. "Hey," she greeted as she saw her sister come in.

"Hey," Klan responded, immediately dropping her bag on the floor. She strolled over to the kitchen to search for some food. "I, uh... I came across Will out there just before I got here," she said, pointing over her shoulder towards some unknown direction outside; presumably in the general direction from whence she had come. "Did you guys get into an argument or something?"

Nene turned back towards the television. She smiled and laughed to herself. "No."

Klan had already finished pouring herself a glass of juice and took a sip while she waited for Nene to elaborate. There was no follow-up. "Nene," she called out.

Her sister turned around, wearing the most peculiar expression on her face, "What?"

"I know that look," Klan said, narrowing her eyes and frowning a bit, "What are you up to?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. You only make that face when you've done something dastardly. You used to do it all of the time when we were kids and you'd try to get me into trouble with Mom."

Nene laughed at Klan's response, but she gave her sister a little bit of an answer, "Sometimes, you have to give things a little 'push' in the right direction. When men get into relationships with women, they will quickly get complacent with the current state of things. Sometimes you have to give them a little incentive to keep things moving." She paused for a moment, smiling at the situation. "You, of all people, should know all about that, what with everything you've put Cal through in the last several months. You can consider it a labor of love, right?"

Klan simply stood still in the kitchen with the cup still in her hands. She could only blink in response.

With a casual shrug, Nene turned back around to pay attention to the television set again, "Then again, I could just be rambling about nonsense, as usual..."

Aside from the sounds coming from the television, a momentary silence fell over the room. Klan downed the rest of her drink and firmly set the cup onto the kitchen counter, breaking the relative silence with that sound. "Whatever." She began to walk towards her room, unwilling to argue about it for the time being. "I'm going to sleep. Try to keep it down to a dull roar, okay?" She could only hear a faint grunt in response before slamming the door shut behind her.

…

With the midday sun now high above, a familiar greyish RVF-25 with prominent white stripes on its wings and tail emerged from the thick layer of clouds below. While rapidly climbing altitude, it circled the column of a cumulonimbus cloud formation. It frequently changed direction at random times, darting in and out of the clouds, gaining and losing altitude, and sometimes changing its vector by up to 180 degrees within mere moments.

Suddenly, it took on a more steady flight path, cruising in between two cumulonimbus columns at a relatively calm rate. Inside of the cockpit, Cal seemed to be mesmerized by the cloud formations and the way the sun's bright light was reflecting off of the collections of water vapor contained in them. Above his canopy, the distinctive radome of his RVF-25 was missing. Judging by his erratic flight patterns, perhaps the radome was intentionally removed to reduce drag on the craft while in an atmosphere. Aside from the gentle hum of the RVF's engines, the cockpit was serene and silent. Cal took the time to admire the beauty of the cloud formations for as long as he could.

To his dismay, his radio crackled in his ear, "Okay, Cal. I think I've got enough data on the new EX-gear to work with for now. Go ahead and come on back home."

...And just when he was starting to enjoy the scenery. Below him was only white. The system of clouds stretched on for as far as his eyes could see. He clicked his tongue and violently thrust his throttle forward, pulled back on his flightstick, and lightly tapped his left rudder pedal. The resulting maneuver guided his bird up to the top of the cumulonimbus cloud formation, flipped his bird over into an inverted dive, and sent it straight in at the middle. Cal wore a wicked smile as he looked straight up from his cockpit to see the clouds passing by only a few dozen meters away. Immediately after entering the cloud, the visibility dropped to zero and only the electronic glow of his HUD guided him back to his destination.

"Cal! What are you doing?"

He still chose not to answer. From below the layer of clouds, it was anyone's guess as to his intentions. Only the roar of his engines could be heard coming from somewhere in the thick, white soup suspended in the atmosphere.

With little warning, his RVF burst through the clouds in its battroid form, letting gravity do all of the work of his descent. Wisps of cloud initially streamed behind the craft, until they quickly dissipated into the air again. The engines spun down to an idle speed, just enough to power the avionics and robotic actuators that controlled the battroid's limbs and posture. However, the sound of the wind beating against its hull was nearly deafening from an external perspective.

The battroid's posture resembled that of a skydiver; its arms fanned out to the sides and its body held a downward pitch. With a slight adjustment, the arms tilted, sending the rest of the body into a tight spin. Surely, this kind of maneuver would send an inexperienced pilot into a state of complete vertigo. However, after several moments of sustained rapid rotation, the battroid kicked its legs in such a way that sent it tumbling forward a couple of times. It seemed to effortlessly regain complete attitude control, once again in the previous skydiver's pose.

Far below, the enormous Island-1 mainland carrier of the Frontier emigration fleet remained moored in the ocean, far offshore from the city. Cal's RVF headed straight for the now-artificial island, slowly shrinking out of view as he increased his distance from the layer of clouds above. If he was going to leave his beloved sky, he might as well enjoy the trip back home.

Inside of the hangar lunch room at Bell-Casse, Kaiel quietly sat at one of the tables reading from a digital tablet he held in his hand. He seemed to revel in the peace and repose, calmly sipping on a hot cup of coffee set in his other hand. His posture resembled that of a gentlemanly scholar, sitting sideways away from the table while propping his elbow up on the table and folding one of his legs over the other.

"What are you reading?" came a voice from the doorway.

Kaiel didn't have to look up to recognize who it was. He kept his eyes fixated on the tablet's screen as he answered, "This month's issue of Macross Frontier Ace. They did a fascinating article on General Galaxy's 'Guld Works'. I can't stop reading it."

Cal, wearing a jumpsuit over his flight gear, worked his way over to Kaiel's table. "You've got the new MFA? Let me see..." he said as he sat down next to the Zentraedi pilot, "I forgot to renew my subscription when I got back from deployment. As a matter of fact, I've missed quite a few issues... I think the last one I read was the one that came out just before our final descent operation onto the planet."

Macross Frontier Ace is a popular publication amongst both civilian and military pilots. Even engineers and tech-heads alike enjoy reading the articles, since they frequently showcase airplane, spacecraft, and other related mechanical specimens in great detail. The magazine focuses its scope on the dealings of the colony, but devotes a small portion of its layout to matters regarding the parts of the galaxy controlled by the New U.N.

"I think I've read this article six times now," Kaiel bragged, "When I was growing up, I always wanted to work at the Guld Works, General Galaxy's advanced projects development program. Guld Bowman has been something of an inspiration to me. My goal is to finish school, learn to design my own space fighters, and test-pilot them, just like he did!" He grew silent for a moment and slightly frowned, "It's too bad he died before I was born. I would give anything to be able to travel back in time and meet him."

"Oh, that's right! You're here as part of the work-training program at your school, huh? How many years do you have left?"

"Just two more to go! Then, I can start working on maybe getting my name published in this magazine some day!" Before Cal could respond, he began to flip the magazine's digital pages on his tablet by flicking his finger across the touchscreen. "That reminds me, I was looking for your name in the pilot rankings earlier, but I got distracted. Let's see if the columnists think you're as good as you say you are!"

The magazine boasts ranked lists of the fleet's best pilots, based on various criteria established by the writers and civilian experts. Each issue also contains a feature story on pilots of interest, which often makes those pilots into semi-celebrities in the eyes of the MFA subscribers.

Cal almost laughed, but then he felt a momentary sensation of uneasiness. His confidence in his piloting abilities couldn't take a hit if he didn't see himself on the "best pilot" rankings. He watched the tablet's screen from the side as Kaiel turned the pages to the correct number, according to the table of contents.

"Ah, here we go..."

They both began to scroll through the list, but Cal couldn't quite make out the words from his sideways perspective. He chose to wait out the anticipation from his seat instead.

"Hmm... I don't see you on this 'Top 100' list," Kaiel declared. He flipped to another page and started reading again. "Let's see if you're in one of the other lists." It didn't take him long to respond while placing his finger at a particular spot on the tablet's screen, "_There_ you are! You're in the 'Up and Comers' list, right here." He turned the tablet slightly to the side so Cal could read, while keeping his finger firmly plotted on the screen.

Cal lightly brushed Kaiel's hand away from the screen and turned it towards himself so he could read. He seemed to smile with at least some satisfaction. Seeing his name in print in this kind of magazine was quite an accomplishment, despite the fact that he probably wasn't yet regarded as "seasoned" enough to make the "Top 100" list. At least he could consider it something of a goal, for now.

"Well, well, well...!" Kaiel exclaimed, letting his huge paw of a hand fall onto Cal's back, "I guess all of those stories you've told me are true! You're gonna have to show me some of those skills sometime."

Cal let out a brief cough from being hit on the back so hard. "Oh, I don't know. We're kind of working on different projects, aren't we? I don't think there's anything I can show you that you don't already know, I'm sure." He seemed rather sheepish, for some strange reason.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Cal?" came another voice from the doorway. They both turned to see David approaching them with an insulated bag in his hand. Most likely, it was carrying his lunch. "All these years I've known you, you've never been one to back down from a challenge like that." He sat down and placed his bag on the table before turning his head to Cal. "You've been acting strange all day. What's going on?"

Cal noticed Kaiel nodding in agreement. He had secretly hoped that the recent "changes" in his personal life would not affect his behavior, but it was glaringly obvious to at least two of his co-workers. This whole "being in love" situation was unavoidably a package deal. It would probably be best to just go ahead and play the part. "Boys," Cal said with a wry grin while putting his arms around their shoulders, "when you both _finally_ mature and grow a pair, you might get to experience this thing called 'love', if you're lucky enough."

They both frowned ever-so-slightly at his coarse comment, but quickly put smiles back on their faces. Not only did they know he was just kidding with them, but the subject material at hand easily caught their attention.

"Wait a minute," David replied, "What do you mean? Did you meet someone?"

"You could say that..." Cal wore a look of nonchalance, as if it was nothing new to him.

Rather than take a shot at Cal, David did the right thing. "Really? That's great news, Cal! I'm glad to hear it!" Of course, in the back of his mind was the thought of Cal's fiancee, Marie, and how it's probably been tough on the guy to deal with her passing. "Tell us. What's she like?"

Although he was proud to tell them that he had found someone, he was a little apprehensive to talk about Klan to these guys. It was still a very new feeling to him. "Well, uh... she's a pilot."

They waited for him to continue, but interjected after a couple of moments of silence, "That's it?"

Cal softly laughed and continued, "Um, she's a Meltran."

Kaiel found this to be _quite_ fascinating, since he's Zentraedi. "Wow! I had no idea you were into that sort of thing!" he said as he playfully nudged with his elbow, "Is she pretty?"

"Impossibly," came the reply. Prompt and succinct, Cal had no problems admitting that to these guys. He seemed to sigh to himself and become lost in his thoughts.

Such a reaction elicited an even stronger sense of curiosity from the other pilot. "I must see this for myself. Pictures. **Now**," came the demand.

Cal didn't hesitate to pull his phone out and scroll through the photographs he had saved on it. Unfortunately, he hadn't taken the time to transfer the memory from his old phone to his new one. He grunted as he realized this fact and saw that the picture folder on his phone was completely empty. Just as he was about to tell them the bad news, he noticed that a message was waiting to be read. "Hang on," he said as he went to retrieve the message.

The sender was Nene and it had an attachment. "_Hey, Cal! I went through all of my pictures from yesterday and felt compelled to send this one to you. Hope it helps you get through the day with a smile!_"

Already, Nene's message brought a smile to Cal's face. She's has always had a way of making the people around her feel better and Cal was no exception. He opened the attachment to find that she had sent a copy of the photo with him holding Klan in his arms as they approached the pavilion of the paintball park the day before. He began to revel in the memory, briefly reliving that seemingly-triumphant moment once more.

"That her?" Kaiel asked. He had leaned all the way over to get a look at the phone, slightly irritating Cal.

"Uhh... yeah."

"Wait a minute. Isn't she that same girl that came here to see you the other day?"

"Yes."

"Cal!" Kaiel exclaimed with a huge smile on his face, "I had no idea you were into little girls. Isn't she too young for you?"

He rolled his eyes, having anticipated this question since the subject came up in the first place. "She's twenty years old, guys. It's not what it looks like."

"Yeah," David chimed in, "It just looks like you're into the cute, petite, short, girls that look like they're still in grade-school, that's what it looks like. Just admit it: you've got a bit of a lolita-complex!" He and Kaiel laughed at Cal, who was no longer smiling.

"Oh, screw you guys! That's just how she looks when she's micloned. She has a little genetic disorder, that's all. I wish I had a picture of her in her Meltran form so I could see the looks of insane jealousy form on your faces."

"But you don't; so, we're going to give you a hard time about it until you prove otherwise."

"Alright..." Cal said, now stepping up to the challenge. He stood up from his seat to leave the room so he wouldn't have to deal with their chiding anymore, "I'll bring her here with me one of these days, so you can see her with your own two eyes. Bring an extra pair of pants, because you're gonna need to change into them after you see her."

As David and Kaiel began to laugh at Cal's threats, another worker poked their head from the hangar area and into the lunchroom, "Kaiel! Hop in the tank, we need you out here!"

Kaiel sat still in his chair in anticipation for the reasoning. He kind of knew what it was about, but he wanted to hear a verbal confirmation.

"_It's here_!" the technician squealed with a satisfied grin on his face.

Kaiel let out a gleeful yelp like an excited puppy, and trotted out of the room.

Confused, Cal turned to David, who was placing his lunch sack into the fridge for cold storage.

"Come on. I'll show you," he said as he rushed past Cal towards the doorway.

Outside of the hangar, several technicians gathered around a large flatbed delivery truck. On it

rested a single heavy-duty crate, some 60 feet in length, and about 15 feet in height. One of the company's Work Destroids stood by next to the truck, ready to unload the cargo.

David stood next to Cal as they looked over the box with their eyes, "Kaiel gets to test out a new type of gunpod with his specially-modified Queadluun."

"Really? Wait, 'specially-modified'?" Cal asked.

"Yeah, we replaced the old three-digit manipulators with five-digits and re-fitted its controls to accommodate them. Seems that there's a new model Queadluun coming out with various changes and this is one of them. The NUNS wants Queadluuns to be able to use gunpods more effectively and are interested in arming them with one of these new-type guns."

Once again, Cal had to stop himself from talking about things that he was not allowed to discuss. He would have loved to tell them that he's already seen the 'new model' in action. He fought to bite his tongue, however, and succeeded. "Oh, cool!" he said, feigning ignorance on the matter. "What's so new about it?"

"Oh, you're going to have to find that out on your own. In a few days, we're going to send you up against him to see just how effective it is."

From behind, they could hear the pounding of heavy footsteps. Kaiel quickly emerged from the hangar in his Zentran form, fitting some work gloves onto his hands. A couple of miclone technicians were running alongside him to keep up with his gigantic strides. "Okay, I'm ready..." He walked to one side of the huge crate and waited for the miclone-operated Work Destroid to move into position on the other side. Together, they hoisted the crate off of the flatbed and began to walk it through the opened hangar doors. All of the miclone workers moved out of the way and slowly trailed behind, following the cargo inside.

Just as he finished helping to place the crate into its predesignated spot, Kaiel turned his head to find Cal in the small crowd gathered nearby. "So, Cal... I was just telling these guys about your new girlfriend." He had a very mischievous smile on his face, "Why don't you show them all that picture? I'm sure everyone wants to know all about her."

Cal could sense at least a dozen pairs of eyes now fixating their gaze upon him. He narrowed his eyes at Kaiel, expressing his disapproval of the situation. "Enjoy it while you can, jerk," he fumed as he took his phone out again, "You're going to be eating a lot of humble pie very soon." Several of the nearby technicians began to gather around him to see what Kaiel was referring to. Judging from Kaiel's and David's reaction, the rest of the day was going to be quite difficult for him.

…

Exasperated after a hard day's work, Cal entered Ozma's house through the door from the garage. Even though it was getting dark outside and the weather was windy and cold, the interior of the house was well-lit and warm. The hot air felt good against his face, since he had just been riding a scooter, exposed to the cold climate.

Ozma had comfortably planted himself on his couch and was watching television. The nearby fireplace was alive with bright flames, giving the entire scene an irresistible allure. Upon hearing Cal enter, he turned his head to greet him. "Hey. How'd it go?"

"Good and bad, I guess," Cal casually answered as he strolled into the living room to sit down. He dropped his duffel bag next to one of the chairs, took off his coat, and leaned forward to remove his shoes, "You?"

"Got a lot done today. Can't tell you what, though," Ozma replied with a laugh.

"Same here."

"Well, that's okay," Ozma replied, "Cathy filled me in on this little thing she has you doing for her."

"Oh? Alright, then." Suddenly, Cal felt a little less important, since Ozma seemed to be privy to that which he had previously thought was a classified matter. He reclined back into the chair, exhaling in relief.

"Looks like she has something of a plan for you." Ozma looked back at the television set and flipped the channel, "Let's hope it works out." Cal only grunted in response; he seemed to be too tired to talk about that right now. However, Ozma decided to change the subject a bit, "How's Klan? Did you get to see her?"

"No, she's been busy. We traded a couple of texts, but not much more interaction than that." Cal sighed. He suddenly felt a bit empty upon being reminded of her.

"You're both going to be very busy, I'm sure. Don't worry, you guys will find time for each other. Cathy and I have to deal with it a lot, but we get by. I mean, heck... we're getting _married_ soon." He turned back to Cal and smiled, "If we can deal with it, so can you guys."

Cal smiled back after hearing Ozma's encouraging words. One day without seeing Klan down, many more were sure to come.

Ozma turned up the volume on television set, which was playing a news program. The weather forecast was being broadcast at that moment. "Looks like we're due for a little snow!" he said, in reference to the report.

The meteorologist on the screen seemed excited to give the news, "I'm happy to say that we should expect to wake up in the morning to find a little bit of snow in our yards! We probably won't see much more than an inch, but I'm glad to be able to report our first snowfall on this new planet!"

"I don't know..." Cal stated in reference to the weather report, "I was up there doing some testing today and I couldn't see the end of this incoming weather system. There were _lots_ of cumulonimbus clouds."

Ozma glared at him in disbelief. "How would you know anything about weather? We've all spent our entire lives living in an artificial ecosystem, where the weather was controlled. Let's just say that planetary meteorology was not the most popular of subjects in our schools while we were still out there traveling through space."

"Good point. I wonder if these weather reports are even going to be very accurate, considering we know next to nothing about this planet's weather patterns."

Cal began to consider the moment. Outside, it was cold and windy and there would soon be some trace snowfall on the ground. However, inside of the house, he had comfortable surroundings. The heat from the nearby fireplace somehow felt about 100 times more enjoyable than before he had heard the news of the impending snowfall. The only thing missing was a warm body with whom to spend the cold night.


	50. I Am 'Skull Leader'

A/N: Yes. I know it's been awhile since I've updated. The good news is that I'm finally done with the semester. It was a rough several weeks for me, but I'm finally past it and looking forward to the next semester, which starts January 17th. In the )meantime, I was going to work my old job during the break, but it appears that that's fallen through the cracks. I'm looking for a seasonal job to help pay the bills, but at this time of the holiday, it may be next to impossible to find anything. Oh well... that just means I'll have more free time to do whatever I want.

I recently got onto a Zelda kick, seeing as how Skyward Sword came out a few weeks ago. I got my hands on a copy of Twilight Princess and finally finished it. I'd played it about halfway through on my brother's Wii a few years ago, until he inexplicably saved over my file. At the same time I finished Twilight Princess, that same brother finished his Skyward Sword, so I "stole" it from him and I'm currently working my way through that game. Pretty good so far!

I've also started to spend time with a lovely lady, with whom I'm finding myself absolutely smitten. If that wasn't already cool enough, she's just as into me as I am into her. We'll see how things work out for us in the near future.

So, aside from that, I've got time to write. I decided to take a slightly different angle with this chapter. If you've noticed the title, you might have guessed that this has a lot to do with Ozma. It does. What I'm doing here is adding inner monologue into the text to express Ozma's thoughts on what's happening at the time. I'd have to say that the closest form of inspiration for this is what you see in the "Fight Club" movie, how Edward Norton's character will frequently add in some colorful, witty insights about whatever... I've never read the book, so I don't know if Chuck Palahniuk does it like this... Anyway, this is my interpretation of that style. All paragraphs in italics are Ozma's thoughts. I actually sat on this chapter for a few weeks, having initially written it like I normally do. I decided to re-write it in this voice instead.

I'm sure my previous work has clicked well with many of you, so you may think, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." Well, I just decided to do it like this for a bit of a change of pace. I plan on doing the next chapter in the same way, only it follows a different character. Don't worry, I don't plan on doing any more chapters in this way. I just wanted to experiment a bit, and I do consider this story to be my writing laboratory of sorts.

I don't have any additional content pre-written as of this posting. My back's against the wall! With the extra free time I'll have during the break, though, I hope to get a lot done. Until next time... -(12/19/11)

* * *

_Some days, you just wake up thinking that it's going to be a day like every other day. This is usually the case, but every once in a while, life tends to throw things for a loop, just to keep things interesting._

Ozma rushed up the stairs in his house and immediately pounded on the first door to his left.

"Cal! Are you in there?"

The frantic rustling of covers was all that could be heard through the door until a primitive grunt acknowledged the early-morning disturbance. "Yeah…"

_It's only five-past-six in the morning. Yeah, the sun hasn't quite come up yet, but this damn chickling needs to get his ass into gear; he's got to report for duty at his usual time tomorrow morning._

Following a couple of loud footfalls, the door flew open to reveal a nearly-catatonic Cal. How he managed to stand upright in his apparent state remained a mystery at that moment. However, this was not an important detail; a bigger problem existed elsewhere in the Lee Compound.

"Put on some warm clothes and meet me outside… It looks like you were right!"

After saying his piece, Ozma hurried down the stairs. Cal stood at the doorway for a moment while his brain tried to decode the cryptic message. The hallway light boring its way into his eyes caused significant discomfort and the occasional image of his own retinas flashed in and out of his sight. Returning to the soothing darkness that engulfed the rest of his room, he peeled down one of the flaps of the venetian blinds to gauge the situation outside.

Nothing could be identified; a gigantic blanket of snow covered _everything_. The sky was barely luminous, due to the sun's impending rise. The street lights on the adjacent highway shone upon a monochromatic landscape. Clumps of snow were falling to the ground, but could only be seen after they passed out of the darkness and into the street lamps' radiant cones.

A few minutes later outside, Ozma was busily shoveling the snow away from the front of his garage. A seemingly un-traversable sea of snow defiantly laid in front of him, threatening to stop him from fulfilling his daily responsibilities. It easily came up to his waist and was more than enough to stop him from getting on his way to report for duty on the Quarter.

_Where the hell is that kid? He'd better not have gone back to sleep or he's going to get a shovel full of snow dumped on his head in there._

The thought had barely passed through Ozma's mind before Cal entered the garage from the door leading to the interior of the house. Even though he was still wearing his pajama bottoms, he wore his heavy coat and toboggan. He'd seen the snow from the window in his room, but it was far different to come face-to-face with it. His eyes grew larger as he finally grasped the amount of snow that had fallen to the ground through the course of the night. He momentarily slowed his walking pace to take it all in, but then quickly began to look around for some kind of rudimentary tool with which to move the pale obstruction outside of the garage.

"There's another shovel in that cabinet," Ozma pointed out.

Cal quickly joined his commanding officer in clearing a path to the highway. However, from their perspective, it seemed that the road was also completely inaccessible.

Panting from the exertion of shoveling snow, Cal had to make light of the situation, "Kind of makes you wish they'd just let us park our VFs out here, huh? We wouldn't have to worry about stuff like this." He managed a slight laugh, despite being short on breath.

_I love driving my car back and forth from the base, but he's right. Being able to fly to work might even be better. No traffic jams, no asshole drivers… just getting to work as the crow flies._

"That would be nice." Ozma was also slightly winded. He was moving as fast as his body would allow; there was no way he'd be late to report for duty… neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow… "I just hope they get that road cleared off real soon."

Fifteen minutes of hard physical labor began to yield results. They had successfully carved an eight-foot-wide path from the garage to the sidewalk on the side of the highway. Almost on cue, Ozma's hopes were fulfilled. A pair of large snow plow trucks slowly passed by, effortlessly redirecting the achromatic precipitate off of the road and onto the sidewalks. However, the sheer volume of snow combined to form a massive white wave, cresting over the curb in a manner that would make a professional surfer envious.

"Watch out!" Ozma yelled, grabbing Cal by the hood on his coat and dashing back towards the garage with him in tow.

The towering wave of freshly-fallen snow crashed onto the driveway, where the two pilots had just been working. The plows had disappeared down the highway, but they left in their wake ivory mountain ranges on each side of the road.

_You have got to be freaking kidding me…!_

Ozma noticed that Cal was wearing the same expression on his face. There was nothing they could do but complain at this point. They both sighed and quickly got back to work, clearing the snow away one shovelful at a time. At least Ozma got what he had hoped for, but it came at a price. "This 'snow' business is overrated," he grumbled.

_Our first snowfall and already I'm annoyed by the new season. I must be getting more cantankerous in my age; something that I'd always enjoyed as a child is now nothing more than an inconvenience. On the colony ships, if we wanted to play in the snow, it was simply nothing more than a trip to Island-13. I don't know if I like having to deal with such a dynamic and uncontrollable weather system… Wow… I'm getting old if I have to complain about something as trivial as the weather. This is how Humanity has lived for thousands of years on Earth. If they can deal with it, so can I._

It took them another ten minutes to carve a path through the rest of the snow, but Ozma was finally able to back his car out of the driveway and onto the highway. Cal stood out on the road to watch for oncoming traffic, signaling when the coast was clear. Once he was out on the road and turned in the right direction, Ozma rolled his window down to talk to Cal, who was back on the driveway again.

"I hate to ask you this, but can you knock out at least _some_ of this snow off of the driveway? I know this is your last day off, but just do me that favor."

"This is my last day to sleep in, too!" Cal whined.

_I'm beginning to wonder how much I'd enjoy cramming that shovel sideways up his ass._

Cal quickly changed his attitude once he'd seen the look on Ozma's face. He clicked his tongue and agreed to the task laid out before him.

The sound of a loud horn honking alerted Ozma to the presence of other traffic on the road behind him. He glanced into his rear view window for visual confirmation. "I'm counting on you, Cal… get it done!" he barked. He had to play the clutch a bit to help his car get traction on the icy road, but soon succeeded and sped off on his way to the base.

_I don't even charge the kid rent. I think the least he could do is help me out from time to time…_

Just as Cal peered around the corner of the nearby wall of snow to see who was doing all of that honking, a transit bus passed by a few feet in front of his face, startling him a bit. "Well, at least the bus system is still working…" he muttered to himself as he turned around to shovel snow once more. He had only worked on the nearby snow bank for a moment before he stopped to wrap his brain around the magnitude of the task. Suddenly, this job became all-the-more daunting for him, now that he'd been left to complete it on his own. "I've got to be crazy to be doing all of this by myself. I'm going to be out here all morning, freezing my ass off." By then, he'd forgotten that he was still wearing his pajamas under that heavy coat.

He'd relieved some of his frustration through the verbal rant, but it still didn't get any of the snow removed from the driveway. He rammed his shovel into the large bank near him and wiggled the handle up and down to loosen the powdery material for immediate relocation.

All of a sudden, he felt the impact of an object on the back of his head, followed by the chilling sensation of snow falling down his coat's collar. He yelped a bit as he fanned his hand across his head and attempted to scoop the cold ice out of his shirt under his coat. His bulky gloves simply drove the snow deeper under his coat. Angry and confused, Cal turned around to investigate the source of the attack, only to find the answer somewhat refreshing.

Klan stood behind him with her hands in her coat's front pockets. Even though she wore a heavy scarf around her neck to cover much of her face, he could read in her eyes the satisfied grin hidden behind the cloth wrapping. She felt no shame in what she'd just done and it simply incriminated her as the undeniable culprit.

Even though he was happy to see her, a bit of a mean streak coursed through his mind. He grabbed the handle of his shovel and pulled out a large pile of snow. Holding it to his side and taking an aggressive posture, it appeared that he was about to charge at her with the powdery ordnance in tow.

"Don't do it!" she warned. He was wearing that look on his face again…

…

Although it was moored in the water at the military harbor, the Macross Quarter did not escape the fate that had befallen the rest of the city. From the bridge, Captain Wilder looked out in the bow direction of his ship. The ARMD-L section to his left, which served as the fighter hangar and launch deck, was being cleared of the accumulated snow. Even the destroids working with the crew on the flight deck appeared tiny, from his perspective on the bridge. All they could do with the snow was to simply knock it into the water below. A handful of the crew members were wearing large tanks on their backs, using an attached spray hose to give the deck a steam-finish. One of the doors behind the Captain opened, and he turned around just as Ozma rushed through it.

"Sorry I'm late!" he panted, "That traffic was _hell_!"

Wilder simply smiled, lightly shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. That snow has got the entire city shut down." He turned around to continue looking out onto the flight deck, nonchalantly inviting Ozma to join him at his side. "The ship only has a skeleton crew right now, and they're all out there trying to get the flight deck cleared. I could have called in some of the crew early from their leave to help, but I figured I'd put these guys up to the challenge." He chuckled to himself for a moment. "I'm sure they're hating me for giving them such a difficult task."

The image of Cal standing on his driveway with a shovel in hand suddenly popped into Ozma's head.

_Maybe I was asking a little too much of him? Bah, he'll get over it. It'll help him build some character._

Ozma started to laugh at his own thoughts, leaving Captain Wilder in the dark as to the inspiration for his sudden display of jocularity.

"What? Do you think I was asking too much of them?"

Realizing that the Captain had just repeated what he was thinking, Ozma laughed again, but shook his head. "No. It's nothing. You just reminded me of something funny, that's all." He quickly recomposed himself and looked around the bridge. "Am I the first one here?"

"Actually, no. Monica's here, but she went down to the galley to scrape up some coffee and cake. We're just waiting on Stephen."

Only a moment later, the door opened to reveal Monica, who was pushing a serving cart. "Oh! Hi, Ozma!" she greeted as she parked the cart and started to place some dishes onto the meeting table at the center of the bridge.

_Monica. When I'd first met her, she was fairly demure and shy. Over the years, she's outgrown her old habits and has gained the respect of her shipmates as a leader. Cathy told me about how she has a crush on the Captain, but I still can't wrap my head around the concept. Although we all have a feeling like there really is something more between them, we never ever see it physically manifest itself as irrefutable proof. I generally choose not to think about the matter; rather, I'll just let the situation play itself out over time. They'll slip up eventually…_

Ozma bid her a good morning and hurried over to help set things up. "Glad you made it in okay. Was it tough to get here?"

_The usual attempt at small-talk, but maybe there's a reason she and the Captain are seldom seen apart from each other. Do they live together, or something? She almost seems like a housewife right now, tasked with the creation of a hospitable atmosphere for her "husband's" guests. She shouldn't feel compelled to be responsible for this sort of thing. I'd look like a chauvinist if I didn't give her a hand._

"No. Actually, I've been staying on the ship for the last few days to keep an eye on things while they finish installing the ship's upgrades."

"Don't you want to spend your last few days off with your family?"

She smiled and sighed before answering, "I'd _like_ to, but I felt that this was a little more important. I've spent plenty of time with my family during the last few weeks, but they understand that my career is important to me. Ever since I heard that my promotion was made official last week, I've felt invigorated; my sense of ambition renewed."

_Damn. I was hoping she'd say something along the lines of "The Captain is all the family I'll ever need!" Wait, why am I trying to find out the truth when I just told myself that I'd rather not worry about it? Dammit. Maybe there's a rumormonger in all of us._

The door to the bridge opened again. This time, Commander Ortiz strolled in. He seemed distraught at his tardiness, but the Captain gave him the same forgiving look and invited him to take a seat.

_For some reason, Commander Ortiz looked different than from before. On one hand, he appeared more seasoned as a command-level officer. His disposition has changed from before the moment he joined the crew to present day. He's more confident in his ability to command this ship in the Captain's stead. On the other hand, he looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I know that look… It's the look of a man burdened with a taxing relationship. That filly, Wentz, might be more than he'd bargained for. This is why I don't really like relationships to form between officers and their subordinates. That reminds me… I need to talk to Nene and Will Garrett about their relationship. They both seem like the kind of people to go and do something stupid together._

Before she sat down, Monica handed Captain Wilder a fresh cup of coffee. He took a sip and immediately reacted to the taste. "Mmm…! Once again, you put the perfect amount of sugar and cream in it."

_See? Either he's kissing her ass through unnecessary compliment, or she knows him well enough to know exactly how he takes his coffee. It's not that great… it's just coffee. Shit, there I go again, trying to figure those two out._

Wilder took another sip and set it down at the end of the table as he took his seat. He cleared his throat and moved his tablet in front of him, unlocking it by punching a password onto the screen. "We got a lot done in yesterday's meeting. We all know that we're kind of operating on a short time table, but I have to, unfortunately, inform you all that we've got something of a new task coming up soon." He let a few moments pass for the dramatic effect. "We received communications from yet another wandering Zentraedi fleet. They have requested permission to establish a home here on Aimo, and it looks like the administration is going to grant them that request."

"Again?" Commander Ortiz asked, "We can barely support the Zentraedi population we already _have_!"

"Come on, Stephen," replied the Captain, "You know that's not really true. Even if it were, we don't own this entire planet. Our sovereignty as a colony only stretches so far on this continent. There are many citizens who have the pioneering spirit necessary to venture out into the wilderness and unexplored areas of this planet, in search of a place they call 'home'. Most people just choose to live in the city, where we have strength in numbers. The immigrating Zentraedi feel the same way, and that's why we have the city of Laplamiz on the opposite side of the bay."

_Commander Ortiz might be a good officer, but he doesn't seem to have an opinion of his own, when it comes to the civilian life. I'd pegged him as someone with a bit sharper insight than that. Maybe this is what Cathy and Cal were talking about the other day…_

"Well, I keep reading all of these stories on the news and every day, they talk about how we're on the brink of depleting our resources. People are going to start going hungry very soon because we aren't producing enough food. People are going to be living on the streets because we can't build houses for them fast enough…" Stephen began to trail off as he realized that he was babbling.

_Yup, I was right. Damn shame. Oh, well. To each, their own, I guess…_

"Let's leave the politics out of this," Ozma interjected, "We're here to figure out how we're going to do our jobs. Right, Cap?"

Wilder nodded in agreement and continued with his announcement, "The Zentraedi starport is going to serve as the staging area for the incoming fleet. The NUNS has requested that we volunteer some of our manpower to help keep the peace over there. That's where you come in, Ozma."

"You need me to post my pilots out there?"

"Yes. Starting tomorrow, I need you to post a squad at the base, 24-7. I'd suggest rotating them every eight hours, as usual."

"What's with the need for firepower out there?"

Captain Wilder fidgeted in his chair for a moment. "Well, they're expecting a bit of an immigration protest there from some of the groups of political activists. I'm sure nothing's going to happen, but the administration has made it clear that they don't want any incidents. The last thing we need to happen is to have one of the new incoming Zentraedi being incited by the crowds and doing something stupid."

"So… we have to protect the protestors from being attacked by a Zentraedi?" Ozma looked down at the table as he continued, "Seems kind of stupid. If I was one of them, the last thing I'd want to see is a bunch of assholes telling me that I'm not welcome here. I wouldn't blame the Zentraedi if something happened; that crowd is asking for trouble."

Wilder sternly interjected, "Again, this isn't a politics argument. Let's just do the damn job, okay?"

_I must have lost some of my laser-like focus during my time off. First, I'm finding myself concerned about the status of this "relationship" between Monica and Jeffrey, and now I'm getting caught in Stephen's stupid political state of mind. Just put me in the cockpit of my bird and all of that shit will wash right away. I'm a pilot; I belong up in the air._

"Right. Sorry. I'll get right on it."

"Glad to hear it," Wilder replied. He looked down and tapped his tablet a few times to bring up some more notes. "Monica, how are the ship's refits coming along?"

…

_Good God, people! Why do you feel compelled to be out in this mess, when you could have taken the day off like everyone else did?_

A sigh escaped from Ozma's mouth as he rather impatiently waited in his car. In front of him, several cars obscured the view of a handful of work trucks making their way across the highway. The car's radio served as his only form of company; the chatter-like voice of the traffic reported rattled on to seemingly no end.

"It's a mess out there! Even though the snow has shut much of the city down, there are still many brave… or foolish?... souls who dare to get out there in this thick soup. If you plan on going anywhere, expect delays of up to 90 minutes, depending on what routes you take and how far you have to drive. We'll do our best to keep you up-to-date on all things traffic here on this station… Starting out near Laplamiz, Highway 38 northbound at exit 16, we've got a three-car pileup that's just now getting cleared off of the road, but traffic is backed up about three miles, starting at exit 12…"

The voice seemed to fade out from Ozma's consciousness as he caught sight of a group of people in a field just off of the highway. A war of epic proportions raged on nearby; powdery-white bombs sailed through the air in between two rudimentary structures constructed from the white material abundant in the area. However, each time a "soldier" was hit by a ballistic powdery projectile, they would recover as if nothing had hit them. In response, they would immediately reach down, scoop up a handful of the white material, magically sculpt a new powder-bomb from it, and hurl the bomb in the direction of their enemies. Their laughs and smiles indicated that there was a more positive effect from their conflict.

Nearby, other "soldiers" appeared to be creating elemental creatures made out of the white medium in which they stood. Somehow, they felt as if dressing these golems in their own clothing would imbue them with life and a sense of purpose, which perhaps would be to attack their adversaries on the other side of the field.

Ozma's imagination seemed to be running away from him for the moment. His train of thought was rudely interrupted by the sound of a horn honking once again. Looking forward, he saw that the traffic had cleared up a bit and the work trucks were no longer seen on the highway. He threw his shifter into second gear and slowly let out his clutch to give his tires an advantage at gaining traction on the slippery highway surface. As his car began to move forward, Ozma looked out of the corner of his eyes to watch the snowball fight still raging on at the side of the highway. The snowmen being built were not weapons of war, but just simple representations of their creators. For a moment, he laughed at himself and the fact that his imagination had formed such a contrast to the reality of the situation.

_Maybe it was a good idea to take the post at the flight school. War seems to be spilling onto my civilian side of life while I'm off-duty. I've seen so much combat since I joined the NUNS as a teen-aged, snot-nosed punk. I thought I'd seen enough of the horrors of war after witnessing the destruction of the 117__th__ Research Fleet. I'd somehow taken responsibility for the deaths of Ranka's family members as a way to cope, when, in fact, those things were well beyond my control. This conflict has been going on for almost a year and a half, but maybe… just maybe I'll soon have the power to help bring it to an end, once and for all. Then, I can focus my attention on settling down with Cathy and building a family with her. She is, without a doubt, the most amazing woman I've ever met. I'm happy… and lucky… to be the apple of her eye._

Even though there was more snow than the city could handle, it was probably a grand way for his pilots to end their leave time. Surely, they were all out in the elements at that very moment, taking advantage of the winter wonderland gifted to them by the seemingly unpredictable weather patterns of their new home. Part of him was thankful for the snow, since it might be a long time before he and his pilots return from their next tour of duty.

Sometime later, Ozma followed a well-dressed hostess through a rather high-scale restaurant. In every direction, tables were fully seated with affluent citizens who had finally braved the elements to enjoy a well-prepared meal. His NUNS uniform was partially hidden by his old SMS jacket, a far cry from the professional and formal clothing worn by the other patrons in attendance at the time. One would think that he was improperly dressed for this restaurant, but even when he first arrived, the hospitality bid him a warm welcome and immediately knew where to take him. Even though they offered to check his jacket, he respectfully declined their offer.

He immediately recognized a _very_ familiar group of people waiting for him at one of the larger tables near the corner of the restaurant. Among them, Cathy sat at one end of the table; she patiently waited with her hands folded on the table in front of her, flashing him a smile as they made eye contact from afar. A glint from the engagement ring on her finger immediately caught his eye, reminding him of their new commitment to each other. She, too, was in full uniform. The rest of the people sitting at the table had been busily chatting with each other, but immediately stopped what they were doing to greet him.

"Ozma!"

Several voices coincided with each other to show their glee at his arrival. Ozma grinned as he acknowledged everyone in attendance. The gang was all there: Ranka, Alto, Sheryl, Luca, Nanase, and Brera took up the other end of the table. Just as he was about to say something, he noticed that the hostess was politely holding his chair out for him so that he could sit down. He made sure to thank her as he comfortably took his seat. Following a smile and affirmative nod, she quickly disappeared into parts unknown.

"Wow…!" he exclaimed with a huff, "This place is… nice!"

"I'm glad you approve," Cathy replied. She handed him her menu so he could choose from the list of meals and appetizers.

"Great! _Now_ we can order!" Ranka playfully chided Ozma from her seat next to him. She quickly put her arm around his shoulder and gave him a side hug. "I'm glad you could make it."

_I've recently come to the realization that I'm probably not going to see Ranka again for quite a while. She already lives a busy schedule and rarely makes time to see me anymore. I'm going to be very busy with my own duties for the next week before we ship out, too. Why does this feel like some kind of "goodbye" meal?_

"A meal with the two most important women in my life and a host of good friends. It's almost like we're one big family, isn't it?" he asked.

"We _are_ a family, Ozma," Cathy declared as she reached forward to cup her hand over his. She then looked over towards the rest of their guests to her right to get their opinions on the matter.

"Yeah!" came a couple of replies in agreement to Cathy's statement.

_Family. I was just thinking about forming one of my own, but maybe I've overlooked the one that's been in front of me all of this time. For 12 years, it's been only Ranka and me. Now, I have my future wife sitting in front of me, and a group of kids who see me as something of a big brother to them. Cathy and I are the patriarchs of this family. We supervise and support these younglings as if they were our own. Look at them… They're just sitting there in their little clique, having the times of their lives. I watch as Cathy looks at them with that maternal gaze. She's proud of what they've become. So am I. We're going to make awesome parents someday._

A smile crept across Ozma's face as he surveyed the table. They all wore their Sunday best to make sure that this dinner was as impressive as the wine list on the menu. Even Alto was wearing a nice suit. He didn't seem to feel uncomfortable in such clothing. Perhaps Ranka or Sheryl had managed to inspire him to be more conscious of his outward appearance. Maybe it was out of respect for Ozma…

Cathy managed to flag down their waitress and she happily sauntered over to their table, taking out a notepad from her front apron pocket. "Oh, great! Your group is now complete, huh? I take it everyone is ready to order, then?"

Cathy then turned to the young group of friends sitting at their table, "Order whatever you want, guys. Dinner is on us!"

"Are you sure?" Sheryl asked, "We can just go Dutch, Cathy." Unwilling to impose, she had offered to split the bill. After all, they were at a fairly expensive restaurant.

Cathy smiled and amicably waved her hand in a downward motion towards Sheryl, "I invited you guys to come, so you shouldn't feel obligated to pay. We want you guys to have a good time, alright?"

Sheryl quickly thanked Cathy for her generosity and rejoined the rest of the gang in their conversation while the waitress hovered around them to take their orders.

_Ouch, my wallet! These prices are ridiculous! I can't even pronounce the names of most of these dishes._

"Are you sure we can afford this place?" Ozma asked Cathy, using the menu to shield his words from traveling too far.

"We'll be fine, sweetie. Just order whatever catches your eye."

_I don't even know what is in these dishes. The short descriptions underneath each menu item don't really tell me much about what I'm ordering. I just want a chunk of seared, dead animal on my plate and a cold beer._

Ozma felt slightly pressured to choose something from the menu, since the waitress was now standing next to him. Unbeknownst to him, she was in no particular hurry and he could have asked her to move on so he could have more time to choose. "I'll have the… uh…" He squinted at the menu in his hands, trying to figure out how to pronounce the words. "En… Entr…" He finally stopped trying and put the menu down flat on the table. "I'll have _that_, right there," he said as he dropped his finger down on one of the menu entries.

The waitress politely leaned over and smiled as she read what he was pointing out, "Oh, entrecôte à la bordelaise. Good choice!"

Ozma looked back at her, as if he was upset that she could pronounce the dish with a perfect French accent. However, the smile quickly returned to his face. "Showoff…" he joked, handing her the menu.

"I didn't know a lick of French when I first started working here," she said with a laugh, "They made me take some basic lessons before I started waiting my own tables, so don't feel so bad, Sir."

After taking Cathy's order, the waitress moved on to finish taking orders from the remaining guests at the table. Ozma and Cathy found themselves relatively alone, since the rest of the gang was engrossed in their own conversation.

"Nice girl," Ozma casually commented in reference to their waitress. Cathy could only nod in agreement, since she was in the middle of a sip of wine. "How was your day?" he asked. No matter where you are in the galaxy, no matter what year it is, some formalities remain the same. Small-talk still isn't a lost art.

"You know how it goes…" she casually remarked, "So much to do, so little time to do it. You just do what you can." She stared at her wine glass on the table, rotating it by delicately twisting the stem with her fingers. "I'm going to have to get used to not seeing you again, you know."

_Based on the look on her face, I had a feeling this was coming. I really hope I don't have to see that look ever again._

"Aw, come on…" Ozma didn't really want to hear that from her, but she was right. Plus, the same concern was probably lurking around somewhere in the back of his mind. "Just think of it this way: When I make it back, you won't have to worry about that anymore." Sometimes, he wonders why he says such obvious things. Of course, she was well-aware of that fact, but maybe deep down inside, he knows that she just wants to hear him say it.

"…And tomorrow, your chicks will return to the roost. You'll definitely have your hands full for the next week, huh?" She took another quick sip and set the glass back on the table. "By the way, I hope it's not too much of a bother to have to 'borrow' one of them for one of my pet projects." She must have been referring to Cal. "I know he's got a lot on his plate, so I just hope I don't burn him out."

"He'll be fine. The thing with him is that you have to keep him motivated or he'll just follow the path of least resistance. So, I'm okay with it. Besides, they've all had several weeks of leave, so I'm not concerned about burning any of them out. Just make sure you return him in one piece." Ozma shifted in his chair, much like how he shifted the subject a bit, "Everything's okay on all other fronts, I take it?"

"Yeah…" She didn't seem to be able to make any eye-contact with him at that very moment, though. "I just keep getting this feeling that, despite my best efforts, something is going to come along that I didn't anticipate. My instincts tell me that something big is going to happen very soon. The question is: 'Are we prepared for the worst of scenarios?'"

"Let's not talk about such dreary things right now," Ozma replied, reaching across the table to place his hand on hers. "I'm just excited to get back up the air, after all of this time being grounded!" Ambition and anticipation beamed from his face, giving Cathy a reason to smile and look into his eyes again.

"Yeah, I know. Are you guys doing the security detail job at the base?"

"Mhm," he could only mumble a response, since he had just taken a sip of his wine. As expected of the restaurant's stock, it went down smoothly, instantly rewarding him with that warming feeling in his abdomen.

_A glance outside at the snowy landscape really helps me appreciate the contrast of the cold weather and the side effects of the consumption of good alcohol. It's not a beer, but maybe something even better. I think I could get used to this…_

"It's not quite flying, but it's a start. At least we'll be spending time with our birds."

"Have you decided who's going to be taking the first shift?"

Before Ozma could answer, he heard a voice from behind, "Excuse me…"

One of the other restaurant patrons was turned around in her chair, directly looking at them. She wore a red pantsuit, glasses that sat a little lower on her nose than usual, and an inquisitive look on her face. A man, who was probably her husband, sat at the other end of their table, wearing an equally curious expression. "Are you both pilots?" she asked, looking at their NUNS uniforms.

"I am, but she's not," Ozma cordially replied. He pointed at Alto and Luca sitting at the other end of the table, "They are, as well."

"Oh, I see," came the reply with a nonchalant nod. Her smile slid to one side of her face, transforming into a wry grin. "I just want to say 'thanks'…" She paused for a moment, letting the comment soak into both Ozma and Cathy. However, her well-groomed eyebrows moved closer together, wrinkling the skin in between them. "Thanks for getting us stuck in this god-forsaken war!"

Ozma flinched, as if he'd been hit in the face with a paperback book. "Excuse me?"

"It's because of people like _you_ that we got into this war and we're _still_ in it now! If we'd just minded our own business and stayed out of Vajra territory, we wouldn't be in this mess. Your warmongering brought this conflict upon us and countless people have died for it. We should be spending our resources building this colony, rather than fighting a war in which we have no business. Instead, our fleet is out there needlessly provoking attacks from the Vajra and the Galaxy colony's defense forces."

_The nerve of some people… It's one thing to be upset for a legitimate reason, but this chick has no goddamn idea of what she's talking about. I wonder what bubble she's been living in for the past year and a half._

"You're wrong!" Cathy interjected, immediately coming to Ozma's defense, "_We_ were attacked. It's our job to put our lives on the line to protect people like _you_. If you knew of what was _really_ going on, you'd be a lot more grateful for the sacrifices that the servicemen and women of the NUNS have made for you."

Cathy's response was met with a scoff. "That's what they want us to think. Blaming this war on Galaxy is just an excuse to continue killing; defense contractors and politicians get to line their pockets on the backs of the citizens. War is big business, you know! Now, you've even got those kids over there to do your dirty deeds for you too, huh?"

Ozma smugly looked back at Cathy, "A conspiracy theorist…" Suddenly, he didn't feel so threatened.

_Judging from her appearance, this bitch is probably some kind of scholar or teaches at the university. I'll bet that she didn't even take her "husband's" name in marriage, or her last name is hyphenated. These guys think they're so smart, just because they have a Master's or a Ph.D. in some subject that nobody gives two shits about. If you ask me, they just have a B.S. in B.S. Then again, I could be wrong about that. She could've just married into a rich family and behaves as if she's self-made. Oh, what it must be like to be able to live in a bubble of their own delusional reality. Yeah... That explanation makes more sense to me._

"Don't be so naïve!" the woman chided, "The facts are all around you!"

"Like what? Educate me," Ozma replied.

"Well, uh… There's, umm…" she appeared to be flummoxed at the question. She quickly shook her head and regained her composure. "Look, I'm not going to waste time answering that question when you can always just look it up. You should try reading sometime. That is, when you're not in an adrenaline-fueled killing frenzy."

_Wow! This really goes to show how the lengths to which some people will go to keep their heads buried as far up their asses as possible. All of that talk and she can't even back it up with a single example._

Ozma stood up from his chair and faced his adversary; it looked like the line had just been crossed. "Get it through your thick head, lady: we're not killers, we're _protectors_. I don't like being in war any more than you would and I don't appreciate being compared to some kind of psycho."

The woman's husband reached across the table from his chair and gently grasped her hand. "Hon, just let it go. It's no use arguing with idiots. They'll drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. You should have expected as much from someone who's only been trained to kill."

_I can't believe I put my ass in harm's way for people like this. At the risk of proving their attitudes towards me right, I am really considering beating some sense into them. I can already feel my hands involuntarily curling into fists at my side._

"Cathy," Ozma said through his clenched teeth, "Maybe you should get everyone out of here for this."

Before she could even respond, the waitress jumped into the scene and grabbed Ozma's shoulder. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Sir, please sit down!" Expecting him to resist her request, she calmly turned in front of him, patted her hand on his chest, and looked into his eyes with ambitious smile. "I'll take care of this."

Surprised by the situation, Ozma did, in fact, sit back down. The look in the waitress's face was all he needed to convince himself of her sincerity on the matter.

"Ma'am, these soldiers both deserve our respect and admiration," she began to chide her own customer, "Every day, they make the conscious decision to put their lives in front of our own. It's because of people like them that we were able to find this planet and make it our new home. It's because of them that you're still alive! And I'll be _damned _if I'm going to idly stand by and let someone say things like that to our great soldiers." She paused for a moment. It was as if she was beginning to consider the consequences of her outburst. "Enjoy your meal!" she angrily blurted, turning to walk away.

One of the restaurant managers happened to be walking by and caught the tail end of the waitress's rant. "What is going on here?" he demanded. Immediately, the waitress lost her nerve and sheepishly looked down at the ground as she turned to him. He aggressively grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the two tables to speak with her out of earshot of the involved customers.

Rather than stare down their adversary, Ozma and Cathy watched as the manager became increasingly agitated at his subordinate while she tried to explain to him what had happened. They felt badly for her, seeing as how she'd put her own job at risk to defend them. The whole situation seemed like a complete role-reversal. At some point, the manager began to calm down and responded to a call from a nearby customer. Apparently, this guy had some input on the matter. After walking over to speak with the other customer in the distance, they both began to look back towards Ozma, Cathy, and the belligerent couple at the table next to them.

Another minute passed before the manager and waitress approached the argumentative couple. The waitress was still very demure, but had a bit of a smirk on her face. She knew what she'd done was wrong, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. The manager, with every bit of seriousness on his face, apologized to the couple first, "I'm very sorry about this, Sir and Madam. Please accept my apologies for what's happened here. Your meal tonight is _gratis_."

The two customers momentarily smirked and looked back at Ozma and Cathy, then back at their waitress, who'd just verbally torn into them minutes before. The manager wasn't done, though.

"However, we'd like to kindly ask you to leave the restaurant now. We don't appreciate customers hassling other customers for any reason."

Everyone at Ozma's table was pleasantly surprised at this sudden outcome. However, the feeling wasn't mutual at the other table. Their smirks had quickly run away from their faces.

The manager continued explaining his decision, "We _especially_ don't appreciate our customers disrespecting our servicemen and women like that. My father was a 14-year veteran pilot in the NUNS and he was most certainly **not** a 'killer'! Good day to you, Sir and Madam!"

The woman puffed with anger as she stood up and fumbled with her purse. "Well, I will definitely _not_ be coming to eat here anymore! I'll be sure to tell my friends about this insulting experience as well!"

The manager confidently stood straight up with his hands folded behind his back. He wasn't willing to tolerate their presence any longer. "I said 'Good day'!"

"Hmph!" the woman scoffed as she turned and walked towards the exit. Her husband made sure to give them all a dirty look before putting his arm around her and leaving the area.

Breathing a sigh of relief the manager turned towards Cathy and Ozma. "I'm so sorry that this happened. I'll be sure to discount your check as compensation for this mess."

Almost in unison, everyone at the table responded to the gesture. "No, that's okay!" Ozma and Cathy interjected in unison. They almost felt bad for having been accomplices to the preceding situation.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, it's fine!"

The manager sighed again and nodded to acknowledge their decision. He took a step away, but halted and turned back towards them once more. "Oh, and thank you for your service," he said as he held his hand out to shake Ozma's. He did the same for Cathy, Alto, and Luca, before he moved past the waitress. She still had a demure composure from what had just happened. He briefly looked at her face and patted her on the shoulder. "Please don't do that again," he said to her with a slight laugh. He then left as quickly as he had come.

The waitress began to pre-bus her now-empty table. A large portion of her former customers' meals were still on the plates and it seemed like such a waste to have to throw away such carefully-prepared and delectable food. She turned around with her arms full of various dishes, taking care to avoid making eye contact with Ozma and Cathy as she walked past. However, she quickly felt a tug at the corner of her apron.

"Miss."

She turned to see Ozma and Cathy smiling at her.

"Thank you for what you did back there. If you're worried about your lost tips, we'll take care of it, okay?" they reassured her.

"It's the least I can do to show my gratitude for your service," she replied while shaking her head, "Thank you, though."

"I hope we didn't get you into too much trouble with your manager."

She nervously laughed at the fact that she's still somehow employed at that restaurant. "I was in hot water until that guy over there confirmed everything I had said to my manager," she replied, pointing out the other customer in the distance. "He saw everything as it happened, so he kind of saved my neck."

At that moment, the other customer was looking in their direction. He smiled, nodded, and respectfully raised his glass to the waitress, Ozma, and Cathy.

"I think he's got your tips covered, too!" Cathy joked.

…

_It seems to me that the social unrest in this colony could be coming to a bursting point. This war and the stresses of building an entirely new colony are taking a toll on the civilians. I can understand that some people might have a differing opinion on things, but to just walk around believing in outright lies is extremely frustrating. I'm beginning to see why Cathy is doing what she's doing with Cal. She might be grooming him to be some kind of media attack-dog. I'm interested to see what he'll do when she finally lets him off of the leash._

The familiar Lancia Delta slowly crawled along the driveway at Ozma's house. A very light layer of snow was on the pavement, but it looked like Cal had cleared most of it off of the ground during the day. Ozma panned his head from left to right as he took notice of the results of what looked like Cal's extracurricular activities. Despite the fact that it was fairly dark outside, he could see something of a menagerie of humanoid figures and various objects sculpted out of snow and ice populating the yard. A large mound of snow formed a rudimentary wall facing the next yard.

_What the hell has he done to my yard? My neighbors are going to see this and wonder what kind of nutjob would ruin his yard this way! It makes my house look so tacky!_

He glanced into the neighbor's yard and noticed that there was a snow fort built in their yard, along with a couple of snowmen. Suddenly, it didn't seem like such a big deal anymore. There were hundreds of footprints all over the driveway, leading into and out of his own yard. The number of trails led him to believe that a huge battle had taken place here while he was gone. A smile crept across his face, realizing that at least Cal had enjoyed his day.

_I guess he finally met the neighbors. I've been meaning to ask them if they can watch my house while we're gone. I need to make sure to take care of that before we ship out._

Waiting for the garage door to finish opening, he finally looked forward and saw that there was a heavy-duty string adhered to opposing walls inside of the garage. On it hung countless articles of cold-weather clothing. They drooped down low enough to rub all over the top of his car as he finally parked it, smudging his windshield. Getting out of his car, he had to fight with the suspended clothing just to get some articles out of his backseat.

_There'd better be a goddamn good explanation for this. That kid is really starting to irk me._

Hands full, Ozma opened the door leading to his living room and saw Cal just sitting on the couch, watching television. A huge blanket was wrapped around him, practically taking up the entire sofa. Already annoyed by the scene outside and in his garage, Ozma glared directly at Cal.

"What is all of that _shit_ out there?" he demanded.

"Shhh!" Cal hushed Ozma. He then tugged at the blanket next to him to reveal a sleeping Klan leaning against his shoulder.

Mortified by his outburst, Ozma quietly shut the door behind him and carried his belongings to the nearby breakfast nook.

Cal used extreme caution as he managed to separate himself from Klan without waking her up. He wedged some pillows and blankets against her to serve as a substitute for his shoulder and got up to join Ozma at the small table near the living room.

"Sorry about the mess in the garage, but your dryer broke down. I called a repair guy and they said they'd come out to fix it the day after tomorrow."

_I don't know what it is about this guy. Every time he does something, it makes him look like a screw-up. However, the results always manage to come out in his favor, justifying his actions. When it looks like he's going to fail, he makes the necessary course corrections. It appears that he truly has the pilot's instinct. I already had to come to Klan's defense with her little stunt out there a couple of months ago. I kind of hope I don't have to do the same with him._

Ozma laughed as he started to unpack everything he'd brought in with him. "I was wondering what that was all about." He looked back at Klan on the couch, then back to Cal. "Did you guys have fun hanging out today?"

Cal smiled at the question. The answer was pretty obvious. "We successfully defended your house from invasion by the neighborhood kids."

"You two against all of them? Isn't that kind of unfair?"

"Yeah! For _them_!" Cal smiled as he looked back at the sleeping Klan. "You should have seen her. She was just _amazing_ out there. It was like we were two kids playing in the snow." He stopped when he sensed that he was probably getting a little too mushy for comfort. "You know how you know when you're in love with someone?" he asked with a laugh, "It's when everything she does, no matter how insignificant in reality, leaves you with a sense of admiration and awe."

_He's got that right. That's exactly how I feel about Cathy. I cannot possibly imagine the scope of the things she does in a typical day of work. Admittedly, I sometimes wonder why she'd possibly want to spend the rest of her life with me, but that's probably the way all guys feel when they've found someone special to them._

Ozma nodded in agreement. He unpacked a wine bottle and box from one of the bags he'd been carrying, piquing Cal's curiosity.

"What's this?"

"I had dinner with Cathy and the gang tonight. Leftovers…" he shrugged, "Here, help yourself." He pushed one of the larger boxes towards cal, opening it to reveal a delicious chocolate cheesecake inside.

"Nice!" Cal quickly grabbed a plate from the nearby cabinet and served himself a slice with Ozma still rummaging through his duffel bag on one of the nearby chairs. While Cal chewed on his first bite, Ozma nudged the wine bottle in his direction, inviting him to have some. "Wow! Cheesecake and wine! I feel so sophisticated!" He mockingly dabbed his mouth with a napkin, imitating someone of impeccable nobility and refinement. Cal took a sip of the wine from his glass and his eyes widened, "This is really good! I mean, _really_ good!" He quickly took another sip of wine to help him chew the cheesecake a bit better.

"It better be good. That cheesecake and bottle of wine cost almost as much as your weekly salary," Ozma nonchalantly replied. He then sat in one of the chairs and leaned back, resting his arm on the table.

Cal immediately stopped chewing; he glared through the table and his face had a blank expression. At this point, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to _swallow_ the food and wine. He sat back and started at the cheese cake, then at the wine in his glass. His cheeks were still full of food.

"It's fine!" Ozma chided, "I'm certainly not going to finish this on my own before we leave." He tapped his fingers on the table during the pregnant pause. "So did you even go anywhere today?" he asked, shifting gears on the conversation.

Cal finally finished chewing and reluctantly swallowed. "No. The snow pretty much cancelled all of the plans that I had today. Bell-Casse called me to tell me not to come into work. Cathy texted me to tell me to stay home." He laughed at himself for a moment. "I'm kind of glad we got this snow, then." He tilted his head in Klan's direction as he continued, "She showed up right after you left and we just had a blast playing out in the snow together."

"She didn't have to report for duty?"

Cal shook his head, "They told her they'd contact her when they needed her again. Seems that that snow has put everyone on a different schedule."

_Lucky bastard. I would have enjoyed a day at home, fire roaring, cold glass of beer in one hand, lit stogie in the other. Oh well. Such is the responsibility that comes with my position._

"Well, I'm glad you guys got to spend some time together before you report back to duty. Speaking of which, are you all ready for it?" he asked as he poured a glass of wine for himself.

"Yes, Sir!"

After pouring, Ozma lifted his glass towards Cal for an impromptu toast. "Well, here's to good luck and success on our next tour of duty."

"…and to a quick and safe return home!" Cal happily toasted to Ozma's cause. He was honored to share a drink with his commanding officer. He was even _more_ happy with the fact that he was the object of Klan's affection. That, at any time of the day, he can think about her, and feel good about the fact that she only has eyes for him.

In his mind, he replayed an event from several hours earlier where they were both together outside, taking cover behind one of the walls of their small snow fort. Snowballs sailed all around them from the kids in the neighboring yard. Just as Cal was about to charge forward on their final snow-borne assault, she grabbed his coat and looked directly into his eyes.

"Don't worry, I've got your back!"

The look on her face was one that he'd never forget… Despite the fact that it was a simple snowball fight, he could tell that she had and would always have the utmost confidence in his ability to succeed. She now sees him as an equal, as a partner, and she'd do anything to keep it that way. Together, they were unstoppable; together, they were a _team_.

Back in the present, Cal snickered to himself as he put the final piece of cheesecake into his mouth.

_Things sure have come a long way since Cal first joined the squadron. I knew I was taking a chance on him back then, but I think things have paid off with dividends. All of those times Klan came bursting into my office because he'd pissed her off again and then me having to calm her down… I have to admit, I'd almost lost my patience with them both, but they managed to turn themselves around and come to a mutual understanding of each other. It's almost as if they had always been fighting to overcome their inhibitions and it just manifested itself as them always butting heads with each other. I had originally thought that they were just incompatible, but now… I see that it was just that they each complement each other's weaknesses._

Cal checked the time on his phone and hurriedly got up from his chair. "Damn, it's getting late already." He took his dishes into the kitchen and quickly washed them before replacing them where he'd initially found them.

_From the looks of it, he's planning on getting up at his usual on-duty time. I guess I don't have to worry about him getting back into the usual routine._

Ozma watched as Cal cautiously approached Klan, who was still fast asleep on the couch. "Come on, Half-pint…" he grunted as he bent down to pick her up from her seat. Klan did little to respond to being jostled in her sleep. She let out a sleepy grumble and quickly wrapped one of her arms around his shoulder to cling to his body. He simply left her wrapped in the heavy blankets, taking care to not trip over the dangling corners as he rounded the staircase bannister. Fortunately, she'd already bundled her long hair up into a bun on her head.

_I wonder, if they ever get to that point in their relationship, how they're going to get around her genetic disorder. Is he okay with her miclone form, or is he going to macronize himself to be with her? She's going to be expecting some level of physical intimacy from him at some point. She is, after all, a woman. I'm sure he has to be thinking about this already. As a guy, it takes a lot of self-control to not act on primal instinct when we see an attractive woman. It must be tough on him… on __**both**__ of them, for that matter._

Ozma took some time to put the rest of the cheesecake and wine into his refrigerator before heading to bed himself. Just as he got to the top of the staircase, Cal's bedroom door opened and he emerged with the comforter and a pillow bundled up in his arms.

"You're not sleeping in your bed with her?"

"That bed is kind of small for both of us to be sleeping on it. I'm just going to sleep on the couch."

Ozma raised an eyebrow.

_Is it too small, or are you just uncomfortable lying in the same bed with her?_

"I would kind of prefer that you slept in your own bed so you'll get plenty of rest, but if you insist…" Ozma replied with a shrug. He turned away and headed towards his own bedroom. "Good night."

"Good night."


End file.
